April Munday (18 page)

“Perhaps he will make you a herbalist,” she suggested as a joke.

“I have been giving some thought to the matter,” said Richard gravely. “Margaret believes I have great skill.”

“But it is not the occupation of a son of a count,” she protested.

“Then perhaps the duke will permit me to fight for him.” He truly was a man of war. Rosamunde smiled up at him. There was more honour in that course of action and it fitted her ideas about him.

“What do you wish would happen?”

“There is little point wishing. I have no control over my future.”

“But if you could,” she persisted.

Richard sighed, as if she had broken into his very heart with her question. “Then I would choose to stay here and serve the duke as a soldier. He is a man of honour and there would be no dishonour in his service.”

Rosamunde was happy with the answer and realised it was the answer she had expected.

“Let me go and see how the celebration has progressed,” she said.

As they left the solar, Richard offered her his arm and she placed her own on top and he escorted her to her bedchamber.

“Shall I fetch Thomas and have him escort you to the hall?”

“Yes,” she said, “We shall begin the celebration.”

The hall was as full that night as it had been every night of the siege and despite the celebration there was an air of sadness. The townspeople had returned to inspect their homes and, as Rosamunde had suspected, there was very little left. She would have to go tomorrow to investigate for herself. The duke joined her and sat at her right hand with Thomas on her left. Since the duke was a friend of her father’s, she was not restricted to formal conversation and it was thus that Rosamunde discovered what had been the real reason for the duke to lead the army to her rescue. His third son had recently been widowed. He said no more than that, but Rosamunde knew that her dowry would be attractive to such a man. She struggled to remember the third son. She remembered the second, a handsome and witty man. She barely remembered the first. He had inherited property from his mother at an early age and taken up residence there. But the third would not come to mind at all. Doubtless her father would find such a match acceptable. The duke was an old friend and even his third son would be a son-in-law worth having. It was only when the tables had been cleared and the dancing began that Rosamunde finally remembered Ralf. As the duke led her out and started the steps to the dance Rosamunde remembered the dark-haired, plain-faced boy who had not been able to learn a simple dance and was constantly getting in the way of the other dancers and turning in the wrong direction and confusing his partner. He was a few years older than Rosamunde. She could recall now that he sat a horse well and was a good huntsman but could neither read nor write.

Her father might approve the match, but she could not. She loved Richard and no man would be acceptable to her while he lived. Richard respected her; she knew he honoured her more than as just the daughter of his lord. Ralf was a boor who would not appreciate her. Richard was educated and elegant. He was Rosamunde’s equal in every way. Ralf was nothing in comparison. Her mind began to work furiously. The threat of marriage to Ralf must be avoided. Somehow her father must be persuaded to allow her to marry Richard, even though the latter had shown no interest in her.

After the first set the duke excused himself. “As you can see, I am no dancer.” Rosamunde made to sit with him. “No, my dear. I know how you young people like to dance and I will be happy enough to watch.”

Rosamunde knew that this was the case and looked around for Thomas meaning to lead out the next dance with him, but he was already standing with his arm around Margaret’s waist and she decided not to catch his eye. Turning away from him, she found her eyes held by Richard. He bowed to her as she crossed the room to him.

“I would dance with you,” she said simply.

“Then you do so at your own risk,” he said, “I have never danced well.”

This confirmed Rosamunde’s own suspicion. “Then I will take care,” she said.

He smiled and took her hand.

He had spoken the truth: he did not dance well, but he was a considerate partner and kept in time with the music. His habitual frown disappeared and he began to smile at her. Rosamunde knew that the other women in the hall regarded her with envy. Richard had not danced at the Christmas feast, excusing himself because of his leg. As the set progressed Richard’s dancing improved and Rosamunde felt that he must be enjoying it rather than dancing out of a sense of duty towards her. Once or twice she caught sight of an expression of intense concentration on his face and knew that he was working very hard and his disappointment when the dancing ended seemed genuine. He led her back to the duke and, ignoring the beseeching looks of the other women took up his place by the entrance to the hall, his face set in his usual frown and his arms folded over his chest.

“I do not know that man,” said the duke, following Richard with his eyes.

“He is my father’s prisoner. He was taken at Poitiers, but unable to pay a ransom.”

The duke snorted. “It seems the French aristocracy are as poor as peasants. Even their king cannot pay his ransom, so he sits and rots in the Tower. I am surprised your father sent you a Frenchman, and a cripple at that, when he knew you were to be besieged here.”

“He sent him because we were to be besieged. Sir Richard is a man of honour and has been of great assistance to me.”

“In what way?” asked the duke suspiciously.

“He is a good soldier and his advice about the defence of the castle has been invaluable.”

“He is a handsome man. Have you had any trouble with the women?”

Rosamunde was surprised by his forthrightness. Surely he could not be questioning her own honour?

“No, there has been no trouble with the women. My father left orders that no woman was to be alone at any time and I have enforced those rules.”

“Still,” he considered aloud, “There may be those who disobeyed your father’s rule,” and he looked at her pointedly.

Rosamunde remembered Berthe, but said nothing. She would tell her father on his return, but she was not yet answerable to the duke.

“No, my lord, all has been as it should be. My father will find things in good order when he returns.”

The duke nodded. “Guy was a good man to leave in charge.”

Rosamunde concurred and did not bother to point out that it was she who had been left in charge.

The music started again and Rosamunde led this time with Thomas. To her surprise, Richard danced with Margaret. She found herself turning to watch them occasionally. She knew from the hours that she had spent training with Richard that there was grace in his body, but none of that seemed to come out when he was dancing.  She doubted very much that the French way of dancing was that much less elegant than the English.  She danced the final set with Guy and noticed that Richard did not dance again. She found she could give him none of her attention for Guy was the best dancer in the castle and it was such a pleasure to dance with him that she finally gave herself up to it, smiling up at him and following his lead. She did not know that she was Guy’s equal in dancing and that all eyes followed them as they led the other dancers.

Eventually it was time for the celebration to end and the castle’s inhabitants went to their beds. Many hoped that it would be the last time they slept in the castle. There had been much reorganisation in the castle to allow the duke to spend the night inside the castle, rather than in his tent, and there was some resentment, although no one allowed it to temper the joy they felt that the siege was over.

As Rosamunde lay in her bed that night she found it hard to believe that she would wake up the next morning and there would be no army camped outside. The castle would soon begin to empty and building would start in the town. And she would have to get used to the idea of being betrothed to Ralf, unless she could find a way to convince her father to marry her off to a penniless French cripple. She slept little that night. Now that she knew how important Richard’s presence was to her, she could not bear the thought that she might be sent away to someone else. If only there had been some sign from Richard that he regarded her in the same way.

The duke and his army left the next morning, but not before he had written a letter to the duke and left it in Rosamunde’s keeping. Rosamunde thought she knew what was in it, but kept it to herself.

In the morning she took Guy, Thomas, William and the steward and they went to inspect the town. Richard accompanied her as her bodyguard. Thomas took Richard to one side and had a quiet conversation with him, but seemed to accept whatever it was that Richard had to say. As she had suspected, there were few buildings that could be salvaged. Even the ones far from the castle walls that had been used by Sir Walter for accommodation had been damaged. It would be difficult to build with the ground so hard from the cold and she worried about the amount of wood required. The duke owned many woods, but he had not expected to have to rebuild an entire town in a few months. As the morning wore on she became more despondent, as she calculated what was required. Rosamunde said little and let the men talk. They knew what they were about and she did not. She trusted their assessment and would be guided by them. The cost of rebuilding was immense; they would not be able to recover it from Sir Walter. She was grateful for Richard’s presence. He was always behind her and to her right, keeping his sword arm free. She doubted there would be trouble today, but her weary mind took solace in the fact that he was there to protect her. That was no longer the first thought in the other men’s minds. They had other things to think of now.

She left the men to discuss the plans and work out how the materials could be obtained. She knew there was little contribution she could make to that conversation, so she went to the still-room. As Margaret unlocked the door Richard said to Rosamunde, “You look unhappy.”

“It will be very difficult to rebuild the town,” she explained.

“I know, but you are a resourceful woman, Rosamunde.”

“You are generous, my lord.”

He smiled at her formality. “Just truthful. Many women are called to care for their lord’s property while their lord is away, but few are called to defend them in a siege. It would be a foolish man who did not see your worth.”

Rosamunde wondered how much of the conversation with the duke he had overheard the night before.

“I have had the support of three good men,” she said.

“And those men supported you out of respect and not duty.”

“You are very gracious, my lord,” she responded.

Richard smiled as he began to inspect the salve he had made two days ago.

“Richard!” she cried impulsively, “We spoke some time ago about trust and friendship.”

He nodded immediately as if it had been yesterday rather before the siege.

“You have earned mine.”

Impulsively he caught her hands in his, then released them as he realised what he had done.

“Thank you. I know that you do not say this lightly. For all that it is worth little, I can offer you my friendship. You have had my trust for many weeks.”

“Then I am content.”

Rosamunde knew they would not be able to continue in this way when her father returned. She and Richard would no longer be able to spend time alone together and it seemed strange to her that there should be a reason for her to regret her father’s homecoming.

“You are very cheerful today,” she said to Richard some time later when she heard him humming a tune to himself. He smiled at her. “The siege is over and we are all still alive and you are not taken by Sir Walter.” But Rosamunde could not be happy. The siege was indeed over and she was not taken by Sir Walter, but the day would doubtless soon come when she would be taken away to be betrothed to Ralf and she would not see Richard again.

“I was thinking, my lady,” said Richard, as if he had not noticed her sadness, “That there will be more time now for ease and there will be more celebration when the duke returns.”

Rosamunde nodded. This would indeed be the case, but she was not sure what Richard was thinking.

“I was hoping that in the same way that I passed on to you one of my skills that you might find the time to pass on one of yours to me.”

Now Rosamunde was puzzled and could not think what skill she could have that would be useful to Richard.

“And what is that?” she asked.

“You dance very well, Rosamunde, and although I have learned it was never important enough for me to do it well.”

Rosamunde stared at him. “You wish me to teach you to dance?”

“I wish you to help me be a better dancer.”

Rosamunde laughed. “You are a surprising man.” She laughed, but she knew that Richard must have begun to favour one woman above the others. Why else would he want to dance better? He must want to please her and that meant that he did not wish to please Rosamunde.

His smile broadened. “Music and dancing are part of a man’s education. A man cannot always be at war.”

She considered for a moment. It was impolite of him to ask her to teach him so that he could impress another woman. On the other hand, he had taught her to defend herself against his better judgement and it would be churlish to refuse to help him now. “Yes, I will teach you, but we will need some assistance from Thomas.”

“Do you think he will agree to help?” she asked Margaret.

“I think he might. He is very fond of dancing.”

This was true. Thomas was both an enthusiastic and graceful dancer and had been much sought after as a partner before his betrothal to Margaret. Rosamunde was glad they would not have to be as secretive about the dancing as they had been about the knife.

Chapter Nine

One morning, two weeks after Candlemas, Rosamunde decided that she had to get out of the castle and the town. She had not left either for several months and they had become no better than a prison to her. It seemed to her that even the slightest problem with rebuilding the town was brought to her and she was weary of the noise and constant questions. She felt that she displayed her ignorance every time she gave an answer and that this ignorance was letting her father down. She could not remember her father having to go into things in such detail. He had left it to his steward and the burgesses. It was time the burgesses took over. They were supposed to look after the interests of the townspeople and surely they could manage without her for one afternoon. Most of the townspeople were still in the castle and it would be worse when everyone else returned from the duke’s other properties in a few days’ time. So many things needed to be done in the town. The buildings that had been destroyed or rendered useless had to be replaced, the damaged houses had to be repaired and the fields that had been neglected all winter would need a lot of work. There were accusations of favouritism from all sides and the burgesses were constantly presenting her with problems. Soon the castle would be more crowded than it had been during the siege. The noise inside the castle and without was already unbearable and she knew that she would break soon. There was nowhere where she could hide from all these demands. Every room and passageway was full and people still came looking for her if she was in her father’s solar.