Margaret Moore - [Warrior 14] (12 page)

Her father’s last words brought Becca to her senses with a snap. Nothing had been prepared for these guests, who couldn’t be turned away now. Rowan would have a fit. How much wine did they have? And was there hay and straw for the horses? They’d have to find clean linens for the bedding….

Although all she really wanted to do was talk to Blaidd about this unexpected visitation, she had too much to do now to try to find a quiet moment with him.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t snatch a quiet moment alone with him that night, or the next day, or the one after that.

I
n the dim light of the waning moon, Blaidd slipped like a spider down the rope he had slung from one of the merlons. He’d found a spot shadowed by a tower, out of the nearest guard’s line of sight. Blaidd wanted to get to the village, and the brothel, without being seen.

The arrival of that arrogant Dane had been like a clarion call. Even if he was falling in love, he should have been doing more to find out if Lord Throckton was harmless or not. He should have questioned Meg more closely; he should have gone to see Hester sooner. Now Meg was too busy with the extra work the Danes required, and he’d been trying to stay as close to Valdemar and Lord Throckton as possible, to discover if their alliance was merely for trade, or another, darker reason. So far, trade seemed to be the only purpose for this visit, and as far as Blaidd could ascertain, this was the first time any Danes had come to Throckton. Every servant he asked said so, al
though he had learned that Lord Throckton often had guests from various places, and not all of them came to court the lovely Laelia.

This wasn’t necessarily a sign of treachery, though. It could be evidence to suggest that Throckton’s income was derived from canny trading with a host of foreigners.

Blaidd hadn’t had a chance to speak with Becca, either, to hear her views on the Danes. She was likewise busy with her household duties.

He doubted she would see anything suspicious, anyway. That day in the wood she’d made it clear that she believed her father was completely loyal to Henry. As for Laelia, although she was definitely fascinated by the Dane, Blaidd was sure her disinterest in politics wasn’t feigned.

Lord Throckton continued to be the genial host, yet he skillfully managed to evade any question Blaidd ventured about his dealings with foreigners, claiming, when Blaidd was able to pose a query, that such visits were solely about trade, which wasn’t treasonous.

He should have been more diligent nevertheless, Blaidd had realized. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to be blinded by his emotions and the good cheer of his host, and put his own happiness above his duty.

Reaching the ground, he slid down the side of the dry moat, then climbed up the opposite embankment. Keeping to the shadows of the buildings, creeping along like a housebreaker, he made his way to the brothel.

Once at the whorehouse, he made sure no one was
watching, then ducked inside. His arrival was greeted with gasps of surprise and smirks from the few women waiting below, and low, sultry laughter from the large, dark-haired madam. She sauntered toward him, her black, beady eyes gleaming with triumph and greed. “I figured it was only a matter o’ time before you come again.”

“I find myself unable to stay away.” He scanned the women gathered there. “Where’s the fair one?”

“Ah, I thought she’d be your choice. She told me how you was looking at her when you dragged that boy off. And of course, if her high and mightiness there in the castle won’t let you touch her, our Hester’s enough like her to make it easy to pretend, eh?” The woman leered and cackled. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

Blaidd felt soiled, but he continued the ruse regardless. “How much?”

“Five pennies.”

“Five seems excessive.”

“Not for her, as you’ll find out soon enough.”

He reached in his purse, which was purposefully nearly empty, and handed her the coins, which she slipped into her stained bodice. “Where is she, then?” he asked.

The woman jerked her head toward the stairs. “Same as before. You might have to wait a bit, though. She’s a busy one, our Hester.”

The woman’s grin was like a death mask, and it was all Blaidd could do to keep the disgust off his face.

“I’ll keep ya company while ya wait,” one of the other whores offered, sidling closer.

“I don’t want to wait.” He eyed the madam. “What’ll it take to get rid of whoever’s with her now?”

Again, that greedy gleam came to the woman’s eyes. “Another five pennies.”

Blaidd scowled, but paid. He’d already wasted enough time.

The woman waddled toward the steps, then heaved herself upward. He didn’t wait to be invited; he followed her at once.

The other whores laughed and jeered. “What, not good enough for ya, are we? We could show you a thing or two!”

He thought they probably could, but it would be nothing he would care to learn from them.

The madam reached the familiar door and Blaidd tried to ignore the noises coming through the flimsy barrier—the creaking of the bed ropes and what sounded like the grunting of a pig at the trough.

The madam pounded on the door with her beefy fist until he thought she’d shatter it. “Oy, miller, time’s up!”

The sounds inside abruptly ceased. “So soon?” a man’s voice querulously demanded.

“Aye!” the woman bellowed back.

They could hear the man’s grumbling, his bare feet hitting the floorboards and the rustle of fabric.

“Hurry up!” the madam demanded as she glanced
at Blaidd, who was making no secret of his impatience, if not for the reason she supposed.

The door flew open, and a large, red-faced man appeared, his yoked shirt unlaced. He was holding his breeches and boots. “You old cow, what the devil—”

He saw Blaidd and went even redder. Without another word, he pushed past the madam and hurried down the stairs.

She cackled again and shoved open the door for Blaidd to enter. “Here you go. Enjoy!”

He had to push his way past her bulk to get inside. When he did, the woman pulled the door closed, and he could hear her laughing as she made her way down the stairs.

The young blond woman was still in the bed, sitting up with the filthy sheet held to her breasts. She gave him a come-hither smile. “Oh, it’s you, is it?”

Blaidd walked toward the bed, getting as far away from the rickety door as possible. “When I was here before, you implied you had something to tell me, something to do with Lady Rebecca. What is it?”

Hester slid out of the bed, leaving the sheet behind. “Is that all you want?” she asked, her voice sultry as she strolled, unabashedly naked, toward a rickety table bearing two dented bronze goblets and a wine-skin.

“Yes.”

She poured herself some wine, then leaned back against the table as she sipped it slowly, giving him ample time to look at her slender, shapely body and
the golden mane of hair that was her only covering. She set down the goblet and smiled. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. So if that was a lie intended only to get me here, I will not stay.” He turned on his heel. “You may keep whatever profit you’ve made from my visit and give whatever reason you like for my early departure.”

“Even if I say you couldn’t get it up?”

His hand on the latch, Blaidd looked back at her over his shoulder and gave her a cool smile. “If you think anybody will believe that, go ahead.”

She ran to the door and covered his hand with hers. She gazed up at him, and this time, he saw sincerity in her green eyes. “Don’t go. I wasn’t lying. I got something important to tell you.”

He removed his hand, so that hers fell away, too. “Then why the game?”

She shrugged. “Men expect it, and you’re a man, aren’t you?”

“Not that kind.”

“So you’re the exception, not the rule,” she said grimly as she went to the pile of clothing near the table. She drew on a soiled shift, then sat on the bed. “I hear you’re a friend of the king.”

“Yes.”

“A good friend?”

“Some would say.”

“He’d listen to you? If you vouched for somebody, he’d believe you?”

“Probably,” Blaidd answered warily.

She nodded in acceptance. “Good, because you’ve got to help Lady Rebecca.”

Dread skittered down Blaidd’s spine. “You think she’s in danger?”

“I think she could be, but not through anything she’s done, and you’ve got to tell the king that, if things get…bad.”

Blaidd’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, bad?”

Hester swung her feet, and didn’t answer him directly. “I hear there’s more visitors to the castle.”

Valdemar’s entourage would have been hard to miss as it passed through the village. “Aye.”

“This ain’t the first time Danes have come here, but they didn’t say they was Danes then. They said they was Germans. One of ’em that come here for a bit o’ fun let it slip they wasn’t.” She made a face. “Seems I reminded him of a girl back home.”

More apprehension filled Blaidd. If this was true, why the secrecy, unless Lord Throckton’s meeting with the Danes was for more than trading?

But if there was a conspiracy, why would Valdemar be proclaiming his nationality so openly? “There’s nothing illegal about Danes trading with an English lord.”

He’d said that to Trev, too, and Hester’s expression was just as skeptical as his squire’s had been.

“You think that’s all he wants, to trade?” Hester demanded as she jerked her thumb in the direction of the castle. “You think that old spider up there doesn’t have other plans? Why, that Throckton’s planning to
make an alliance with the Danes, all right, ’cept wool ain’t got much to do with it. Between his army and theirs, and with some of the barons who don’t like Henry, they could march on London and overthrow the king.”

She was absolutely right, and if that was Throckton’s scheme, that would be open rebellion. But how would a whore know what a lord was planning? “I’ve been here for weeks now,” Blaidd said, “and while he’s discontented with the king’s rule, that’s a far cry from treason.”

Hester smirked. “I wager you think he’s got no ambition at all. That he’s perfectly content here in Throckton, with his castle and his wealth? That he’s not jealous of them with more power at court?”

“He’s given no indication that he cares about power at all,” Blaidd replied.

“Then he’s fooled you, too, with his smiles and lies. Why do you think he hasn’t let Laelia marry? He’s waiting for somebody with real power and influence to ask for her.”

“Or he may be wanting the best marriage possible for his daughter.”

“You think he really gives a damn about his daughters? My mother was a servant in the castle, and she was there when all three of his wives lived and died. He made it plain as the sun on a summer’s day that he wanted sons. He didn’t mourn for long after they died. My mother heard him
curse
his last wife for giving him another useless female.”

“He treats his daughters well,” Blaidd protested, unwilling to believe her.

“Because they’re useful—Laelia to make a marriage to his advantage, and Rebecca because she runs the castle. He’s nothing but a lying, scheming hypocrite. He plays the kindly, generous host, ’cept he’s not kind or generous. He’s an ambitious, selfish lout without a drop o’ pity or charity.”

“I can understand why you might believe that. I know he didn’t help you when you got with child.”

“Damn right he didn’t,” she retorted, her slender hands balling into fists. “He called me a whore and threw me out of the castle. If I could have stayed there, my baby might have lived. Instead, he was born here, in this…this place.” She gestured at the filthy room and her voice grew stronger. “Throckton as good as killed his own grandson!”

Blaidd stared in stunned disbelief. “Lord Throckton—?”

“Is my father.” She stood and slowly turned completely around, a mockingly coy smile on her face. “Can’t you see my resemblance to the beauteous Lady Laelia? Didn’t that old hag below point it out?”

God’s wounds, he
could
see a resemblance. It was slight, but there, in her green eyes and blond hair, and the shape of her jaw. “Is that why Bec—Lady Rebecca—tried to help you?”

Hester stopped smiling. “She doesn’t know,” she said grimly. “Nobody does, ’cept him, and me, and now you. My mother was paid well to keep the secret. She did, until she was on her deathbed, then she made
me swear to keep it, too.” Hester frowned. “What, you think only lords and ladies can keep their word?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t reveal the truth when he treated you as he did.”

“That made me
ashamed
to think he’d fathered me.” She gave Blaidd a sour smile. “Aye, we peasant folk can be ashamed of our noble blood, when it’s like his. But it was for Rebecca’s sake I didn’t say anything. She was the only one ever treated me decent after that, and she loves her father, not that the bastard deserves it. Why do you think that even though he treats her like a drudge, she’s still here, running the castle and sparing her sister the effort? There’s nobody more loyal and loving, and I reckon the truth’d just about break her heart. That’s why I ain’t shouted his true nature from the top of the village church. Aye, and there’s more. Do you think because he’s not got a wife he’s living like a monk? No girl over fifteen ’cept his own escapes his notice.

“He don’t rape them, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Hester continued. “But he’s a master at seducing, and he’s rich. He gets most of the ones he wants, then pays ’em to keep quiet. Either they leave Throckton altogether, or use the money for a dowry. He squeezes every penny out of the poor he can manage, too, threatening ’em and bullying. Lady Rebecca don’t know the half of it.”

Blaidd’s heart twisted and ached as he listened. Becca
was
loving and loyal; she wouldn’t want to believe her father capable of such things—if indeed,
he was, and these weren’t lies or exaggerations told by a bitter, angry woman.

“So when I say these Danes ain’t here to trade, you should believe me.” She flipped a lock of hair over her shoulder with a return to her coy, yet brazen, manner. “Some of ’em like to brag, and one of ’em who was more drunk than the others told me that one day they’d be living here for good.”

“It’s fairly obvious, Hester, that you have no love for Lord Throckton,” Blaidd said. “How can I believe anything you say about him?”

“How can you trust a whore, eh?” she asked as she sat and crossed her legs. “Well, Sir Blaidd, I guess you can’t. So maybe I’m telling you nothing but lies because I’m bitter about what he did to me. Maybe I ain’t telling you this because I care about the one person who treated me decent after that bastard of a knight got me with child, and I don’t want to see her suffer for her father’s doings. If that’s what you think, then I’m sorry I told you.” She raised her hand and pointed. “And there’s the door.”