Anne Herries - Medieval Brides

And now here was Gudrun, placidly telling him that baby Philip had been lost. He struggled to concentrate. Was she safe?

‘He was stolen. Abducted,’ Gudrun said. ‘Your men could not find him, and when they stopped looking Lady Cecily went to search for him herself.’

Adam rubbed his forehead. What was he missing? Gudrun was too calm—far too calm. She had to know where Philip had been taken, which meant that she knew where Cecily had gone. They were all in on it. He smothered a curse. ‘Did she have a groom with her?’

‘Yes, sir. In a manner of speaking,’ Herfu chipped in.

‘In a manner of speaking?’

‘Wat accompanied her.’

‘Wat? Christ on the cross—that boy’s no proper escort!’

Herfu looked at the floor. ‘Sir, it was as I said. Lady Cecily implied that she would remain within earshot.’

‘Hell’s teeth.’ Adam glared at the downbent head. ‘Sometimes, Herfu, you haven’t got the sense you were born with.’

‘I’m sorry, sir.’ His foot jiggled. ‘Th…there’s more…’

‘Out with it.’

‘It’s about the cook—Lufu. She’s vanished.’

‘Again?’

‘Yes, sir. I’ve just been to the cookhouse, and Evie says she’s not seen her for the past hour or more. She and her husband have been salting meat on their own. The miller’s mule has gone too.’

Adam swore, and snatched up his sword. ‘Maurice!’

‘Sir?’

‘Find me a dry cloak, and saddle that grey gelding. And the two blacks.’

‘We’re going out again, sir?’

‘Clever boy.’

‘Full arms, sir?’

‘Yes to the helm, and no to the mail. I’m not about to draw attention to myself, which is why I’ll take the gelding and not Flame.’

Maurice opened his mouth and closed it.

Adam gritted his teeth. ‘What?’

‘Sir Richard wouldn’t approve, sir.’

‘Sir Richard isn’t here to approve or disapprove. But we will wear leather gambesons—padded ones. Move, man.’

‘Aye, sir.’

Gudrun reached for Agatha and whipped her out of the doorway as Maurice ran out.

‘You, woman,’ Adam said in English, before he recalled her previous mistress, Cecily’s mother, had been Norman. He reverted with relief to that tongue. ‘Come back, please.’

Agatha on her hip, Gudrun approached warily. ‘Sir Adam?’

‘You know where she went?’

‘I…I know where she was headed, sir.’

Some of Adam’s tension eased, and he managed a smile. ‘Good. Where’s your husband?’

‘Wilf? Butchering the sheep carcasses behind the cookhouse, sir.’

‘Does Wilf ride?’

‘Of course, sir.’

‘Fetch him. He can be our guide. Herfu, you stay here. Post some guards up on the rise.’

‘You’re expecting trouble, sir?’

Buckling on his sword belt, Adam strode after his squire. ‘When will you learn, lad? Anything is possible.’

Under the canvas shelter, hugging Philip to her breast, Cecily was battling with despair. Not one of these people would meet her gaze. Undeterred, she cleared her throat, ‘My sister, Emma, has anyone seen her? Judhael said she was here.’

Outside, someone squelched through the mud. A horse whinnied. And still not a soul would meet Cecily’s eyes. She looked directly at the shepherd. ‘Gunni, Emma is all right?’

Gunni shrugged, and reluctantly met her gaze. ‘Lady Emma’s well enough. She went to gather dry kindling as we will be lighting a proper fire this evening.’

Emma? Gathering wood in the rain? But she nodded as though it was her sister’s habit to perform menial tasks. ‘So I shall see her soon?’

Gunni nodded. ‘Aye, lady, soon.’

Not ten minutes later, a woman ducked into the shelter. Even though she was expecting Emma, it was a moment before Cecily recognised her. Her sister’s cloak was dark with rain and mud, and when she thrust back her hood Cecily saw that she had dispensed with her veil completely, like a peasant. Her nose was red, her cheeks pale and her hair was thrust back in a single plait that looked as though it had been slept in. Never had she dreamed of seeing Emma so dishevelled.

Cecily jumped to her feet. ‘Emma!’

‘Cecily!’ They embraced, Philip between them. ‘They didn’t hurt you? I made Judhael swear—’ Breaking off, Emma pulled away and stripped off her kid gloves. Cecily noticed they were split at the seams and a greyish brown rather than the cream they had once been, and the boots that peeped out from under Emma’s bedraggled skirts were not the beautifully stitched riding boots that Cecily remembered. They had been replaced with heavy workaday ones, similar to those she had worn at the convent. The transformation took her breath away.

‘What?’ Emma asked, seeing her expression.

‘Nothing. It’s just…you…you’re so changed.’

Emma lost her smile. ‘We’ve all changed.’

‘That’s true.’

Tossing her gloves aside with an echo of her old arrogance that tugged at Cecily’s heartstrings, Emma drew Cecily onto the bench and gazed at the baby in her arms.

‘I wondered if he would bring you here. I hoped…’ Emma’s voice trailed off.

‘What? That I would join you?’ Firmly, Cecily shook her head. ‘This is no place for our brother, Emma, you must see that.’

Unhappily, Emma sighed. She lowered her voice. ‘Of course I see that. It’s just that Judhael…he…he can be so very persuasive. He always knows he is right, you see.’

Cecily made an impatient noise. ‘This is an instance when Judhael is not right.’ She drew breath to say more, but a warning squeeze on her arm had her glancing towards the opening of the shelter. Judhael was there, watching them.

Emma scrambled to her feet so quickly that Cecily frowned. Was her sister afraid of him? After seeing them at Winchester, in the Cathedral, Cecily had assumed they were lovers, but it was beginning to look as though she feared him…

‘You got plenty of wood?’ Judhael demanded, in a most unloverlike voice. He shoved his thumbs in his belt, and as he did so Cecily noticed that the back of one of his hands was scored with a deep scratch, the blood on it recently congealed.

‘Aye.’

‘And the beacon? You checked that?’

‘Yes. The cover’s not been touched, so the wood’s quite dry. I put fresh kindling there too, just in case.’

‘Come here then, wench, and give me a kiss.’

Wench? Open-mouthed, Cecily watched in astonishment as her prim sister, her butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth sister, let Evie’s brother sweep her into his arms in front of his men, in front of everyone. And she didn’t even blush. The world might have changed, but her sister had changed even more.

As Judhael angled Emma’s head to him, so she could receive his kiss, Cecily found herself staring at the dried blood on the back of his hand. It looked odd—as though—a shudder ran through her—Judhael had not scratched himself, he had been bitten, and the bite looked very much like a human bite!

Wilf took Adam and Maurice directly through the woods to the chalky rise which led to Gunni’s hut. With worry about Cecily’s welfare a cramp in his guts, Adam thanked God that the man did not waste time with delaying tactics or pointless deviations. He simply pointed through the rain up a slippery track and said, ‘There it is, sir. Gunni’s hut.’

At the top of the rise Adam saw a rough tumble of stones that had some order to it and was roofed with dried bracken. A man in chainmail had beaten them to it. Le Blanc. He was on his knees by the wall of the shelter, bending over the body of a woman, tucking his cloak around her like a blanket.

Adam stopped breathing. He could scarcely bring himself to look. It couldn’t be Cecily, it couldn’t…