Читать книгу Forbidden Lady - Anne Herries - Страница 8

Rob turned away from the graveside, walking back through the peace of the old churchyard, the song of a missel thrush bringing some joy to a sorrowing heart.

Seeing David anxiously waiting for him, he brought his mind to the business in hand. He had given his word that he would rouse as many men in the Earl of Richmond’s cause as he could, and he must begin immediately.

‘We have work to do, David,’ he told his father’s steward. ‘I have promised there will be at least two hundred men ready to join Henry Tudor when he comes to wrest the Crown from King Richard.’

‘I know that the Stourtons will come in when you give the word. The Davies of Wroxham have pledged their affinity to your cause, Rob. As for their cousins, the Davies of Shorely, I have no word of their intentions, but if they come they will bring in twenty others.’

‘Then I think I must make them my first call,’ Rob said. ‘If I can win them to our side we shall have others flocking to our standard.’

‘Aye, Rob,’ David said. ‘These Plantagenets are a quarrelsome brood. It would be good to see the throne of England under stable rule again, though I like not war. We have seen too much bloodshed these past thirty years.’

Rob touched the old man’s shoulder in sympathy. ‘There are times when a man must stand for what he believes in. No matter what it may cost.’

Melissa visited Owain in the infirmary the next morning. He had recovered his senses, but was deep in a fever, tossing restlessly from side to side. She bent over him, laying a hand on his brow, which was hot and damp to the touch.

‘My dearest friend,’ she said. ‘Forgive me for what I have done to you. You were right, I should not have come for it has all come to nothing.’ She turned anxiously to the monk who was hovering nearby. ‘Will he recover?’

‘It is in God’s hands,’ the man said. ‘We shall tend him and pray for his soul—there is no more we can do.’

‘Thank you for what you have done,’ Melissa said, and bent over Owain again. He opened his eyes and looked at her and for a moment he smiled.

‘Elspeth…’ he said. ‘You have come.…’

‘No, Owain, it is her daughter,’ Melissa said, and bent to kiss his forehead. ‘Rest now, my dear friend. I shall add my prayers to those of the good monks.’

‘My lady,’ one of the brothers had come up to her. ‘I have been asked if I will send someone to escort you to your home. Are you ready to leave?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Melissa said. ‘It was kind of you to offer to send one of your servants to accompany us, sir.’

‘We are simple people and serve God,’ the monk told her. ‘You came here at a sad time and I am sorry that you have not been offered better hospitality.’

‘It is no matter,’ Melissa said. ‘Sister Cecile has her reasons for asking us to leave.’ It was obvious to her that the nun believed one of their party was responsible for the Abbess’s death and wanted them gone.

She followed the monk to the gates of the Abbey, where Rhona was waiting together with the horses and a tall, burly-looking servant who worked in the stables and was not one of the order. The monks employed only a handful of such men and it was good of them to spare him to her. She smiled at him, but he did not respond, merely giving her his hand to help her mount her palfrey.

‘Do you know the path we must follow through the forest, sir?’

He inclined his head but still spoke no word to her. Melissa sat her horse proudly and glanced at her serving woman.

‘Is there still no sign of Agnes?’

‘No, my lady. It is strange, is it not?’

‘Very strange,’ Melissa agreed. ‘Unless…’ She shook her head. It was difficult to believe that Agnes was responsible for her aunt’s death no matter what Cecile had told her. ‘Come, we must leave. I hope to be home before my father returns to the castle.…’

Her face was pale but she gave no other sign of the turmoil inside her. She wanted to run away and hide somewhere, but there was nowhere she could go—no one who would dare to stand up against her father. She thought that perhaps Robert of Melford might have done so if she asked, but her pride forbade it.

She had no alternative but to return to her father’s house.

How many of the promises given could he truly rely on? Rob had spent the past five days riding the Marches, talking with men who could bring in trained fighters if they cast their affinity with Richmond’s cause. Some had smiled to his face but he had thought them false behind his back, for he was aware that the King was also hoping to raise support in the border country. Yet if even half the promises made were kept, Rob would be able to take between two and three hundred men with him when Henry Tudor set up his standard. At least half of them would be skilled fighters. And he was sure that there would be a rising in Wales in support of Henry.

He was feeling weary and in need of a cooling drink when he gave the reins of his horse to a groom and went into the house. It felt strange to hear himself addressed as master or my lord, for he still thought of his father as the master here. It would take some getting used to, he thought, and sighed as his steward came to greet him.

‘What news, David? Have any messages come for me?’

‘None, sir,’ David said, and looked anxious. ‘But there is something I think I should tell you…concerning your father’s illness.’

‘You said nothing of this before?’ Rob walked into the room that had been his father’s place of business. ‘What troubles you?’

‘Before the seizure that laid him low, there was a visitor.’

‘A visitor?’

‘He claimed to have brought a message from Lord Whitbread. Your father was closeted with him privately for some minutes and they quarrelled—for we heard shouting. I hurried there when the man left and found him lying on the floor. He recovered after a moment or two—but it was that night he was taken ill.’

‘Can you name this messenger?’ Rob frowned for he did not like this tale. ‘You have no idea what was said between them?’

‘The messenger is known as Harold of Meresham—the bastard son of Lord Whitbread.’

Rob’s mouth thinned into a grim line. ‘Then I hold Harold of Meresham responsible for my father’s death—and one day there shall be a reckoning between us.’

Rob touched the scar on his cheek, his thoughts swept back to the day of his humiliation at Harold of Meresham’s hands and the pain he had endured.

In those first dark nights, when the pain made him cry out and weep like a child he had vowed to be revenged on the man who had done this to him—and the witch who had cast her spell over him. He must have been mad to believe her…and to help her when she was attacked in the forest. She had aroused a heated desire when he held her to him as they rode through the forest but he had forced himself to behave as an honourable knight—he should have taken his revenge while he had the chance! In his anger at the news of what had happened to his father, he was tempted to take as many men as he could muster and attack the castle. He would like to burn it to the ground with those devils in it! And yet he knew that there was more important work—work that prevented him seeking personal revenge.

His bitterness knew no bounds as he paced the room and thought of his father at the mercy of that oafish brute. It seemed that there was an evil curse on all that that family touched or did—and one day they would suffer for what they had done!

‘Be careful, Rob,’ David said, looking at him sadly, for he could guess what was in his mind. ‘The bastard was only obeying his father’s orders—and Lord Whitbread is a powerful man. If you cross him, he will destroy you.’

‘He may do his worst!’ Rob said, and scowled. ‘I have given my word to Henry Tudor and must keep it—but one day my chance will come.’

Melissa’s heart sank as she and Rhona rode into the castle. Seeing her father’s flag flying at full mast, she had known that he was home, and she had given the monks’ servant leave to go as soon as they were in sight of it. As she and Rhona rode over the drawbridge, she saw her half brother, Harold, standing in the courtyard, and her heart caught as he turned to look at her. His expression was triumphant, and she knew that that meant her father was angry with her.

Harold came to help her down. She shook off his hands, giving him a look of dislike, for she hated it when he touched her.

‘Where have you been, little sister?’ he asked, his thick lips curving in a sneer. ‘Father was in a rage when he discovered that you had gone. I hope he orders the thrashing you deserve—and allows me to do it.’

Melissa gave him a haughty look. ‘You would enjoy that, my dear brother, I have no doubt, but my father has more sense than to allow it. I am an heiress and the King is my guardian.…’

‘If it were not so, I should have had my pleasure with you before this,’ Harold said, his mean eyes glittering. ‘If Father did not fear that the King would seize your lands, you would have died long ago.’

Melissa walked away from him, her heart hammering. She had always known that her father hated her, but he held his counsel and she had not guessed that her life was in danger. She wished that there was somewhere she might find sanctuary, but all hope had gone with her aunt’s death. No other Abbey would take her for they might suffer a terrible retribution at Lord Whitbread’s hands. Her only hope lay in a petition to the King—but who would stand up for her?

Owain would have done it had he been able, though his word would carry little weight for he was not a noble, merely a freeman of England. Surely there must be someone who would help her? Yet try as she might, she could think of no one.

She went into the house, walking up the curved stone stair to her chamber. For the moment she must wait and see what her father had in mind for her.

Rob had been training with his men all the morning. He had been working hard and was wiping the sweat from his body in the courtyard. He doused himself with cold water drawn from the well, and then dried his body on a coarse cloth. He shook his head, the water flying from his long, dark hair as it would the coat of a shaggy dog. The sun was in his eyes and it was a moment or two before he realised that the man approaching him was Owain Davies.

‘You are better,’ he said, greeting him with a smile. ‘I must thank you for what you did for me that night, sir. Had I known your name I should have done so long ago.’

‘No thanks were necessary. I could not stand by and see murder done by those villains—Besides, from what I have been told, you have since repaid the favour.’

‘I did what any decent man would have done,’ Rob said, but his smile had gone for the bitterness was deep in him and grew stronger as the days passed. ‘Is there something I may do for you?’

Owain was dressed plainly in leather doublet and hose, his shirt of wool and dark in colour. The monks had cropped his hair short so best to tend his hurts, and there was a livid scar across his head. Yet he was a handsome man, who held himself with pride, his eyes green and bolder than many a man in his position. Something about him seemed oddly familiar, though Rob was not sure what made him think it.

‘I came to offer you my affinity,’ Owain told him. ‘I know that my lady has returned to her father’s house, for the monks told me it was so—and I can no longer wear the livery of Lord Whitbread. He stands for the King and I am for Henry Tudor. I have heard that you are also of this mind—and I would fight with you, if you will have me?’

‘Yes, and right gladly,’ Rob said, offering his hand. ‘Indeed, I am proud to call you my friend.’

‘Thank you,’ Owain said, and smiled. ‘But I would have you know that I shall return to the service of my lady when this conflict is done—she has my loyalty, no matter what she may have done…’

Rob touched the scar on his cheek. ‘What do you know of this?’

‘I know what I saw and no more,’ Owain said. ‘I have been told that she sent you away—and that she knew of her father’s intent, but I do not believe it. If you knew her as I do, sir…’

‘No more,’ Rob said. ‘I accept your friendship and honour you for your loyalty to the lady of Whitbread, but nothing beyond. She betrayed me, and her brother punished me for daring to look above my station. I have since learned that he caused my father to suffer a seizure that later killed him. I have sworn revenge on them.’

‘Harold of Meresham is no true brother to her,’ Owain said. ‘And her…father is a brute who treats her ill. I would help you kill them both and gladly—but she is innocent.’

‘Perhaps…’ Rob’s expression did not ease. ‘We shall not speak of this again, Owain. For now we must prepare for war. I expect the summons any day.’

‘You will obey me, daughter.’ Lord Whitbread’s fleshy face was dark with anger, a deep red colour seeping up from his neck. He wore a long, rich blue gown bordered with gold braid, a chain of heavy gold about his neck, and looked every bit the powerful and rich lord he was. His eyes were filled with loathing, undisguised now for he no longer kept even the pretence of care or understanding. She had shamed him by running from his house and he would not forgive her. ‘I have promised you to Leominster and you shall marry him if he will have you, though you do not now deserve the honour.’

‘No, Father,’ Melissa cried. ‘I shall never marry a man I neither know nor care for. I have heard of the marquis’s reputation and he is not a man that my mother would have wished me to marry.’

‘Your mother is dead,’ Lord Whitbread growled. ‘Even if she lived my wish would be paramount. You are my property and I shall dispose of you as I please. You leave for the north in the morning. You will go to my cousin, the Earl of Gifford, who will keep you safe until I have time to arrange your marriage.’

‘Father, I beg you, do not do this,’ Melissa said. ‘For the memory of my mother, spare me. Let me marry as I wish…’

‘What is this? You speak as if you favour another…’ His hand snaked out, gripping her wrist. ‘Down on your knees, girl. Tell me the truth or it will go hard with you. Have you shamed me even more? Have you given yourself to a man? If you think still of Melford it will be the worse for you!’

‘No, Father,’ Melissa said. She tried to resist but the pressure on her arm was so painful that she was forced to her knees. She refused to bow her head, her expression defiant as she looked at him. ‘I would never forget my honour. I sent Rob away…and I have never ceased to regret it.’

‘Have you seen him again?’ Lord Whitbread demanded. ‘If he has dared to lay a finger on you he shall die. I warned you what would happen if you disobeyed me.’ Melissa shook her head. ‘Speak, girl, or it will be the worse for you!’

Melissa gave him a stubborn look. Nothing would make her betray what Rob had done for her that day in the forest. She felt her father’s hands on her shoulders, dragging her to her feet, shaking her like a rag doll. He held her by one arm, drawing back the other to strike her hard across the face. Melissa cried out with the pain, but still she was defiant. She raised her eyes, gazing at him with hatred in her eyes.

‘Is this how you killed my mother?’ she asked, all caution lost. ‘You suspected her of having a lover. Did you try to beat the truth out of her, too? Is that how she died?’

‘Damn you!’ Lord Whitbread let go of her, still in a rage but thoughtful now. ‘I suppose that damned sister of hers told you. I had hoped she might take the secret to her grave, for I warned her that if she did not I would punish you in her stead.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘If you think to beg the King for help you are too late. He has given his permission for your marriage in return for pledges of support from Leominster and myself. Leominster will have control of your fortune, and in return a part of your lands become mine. The deal is done, Melissa. You go north to my kinsman in the morning, and when the traitor Henry Tudor has been dealt with, you will marry the Marquis of Leominster.’

Lord Whitbread left the room, locking the door behind him. Melissa looked about her in despair. She was a prisoner in the small circular chamber at the top of the Keep, and she knew there was no way she could escape.

‘Oh, Rob,’ she whispered, tears trickling down her cheeks. ‘If only I had not let you go when you took me to the Abbey. I was so proud, so foolish! You are the only one who could have helped me—but you hate me now.’ She should have taken the risk and told him the truth, but it was too late now.

Melissa felt that her heart would break. It seemed that there was no hope for her, because she could not escape her fate—and yet if she could not wed the man she loved, she would rather die.

She had hoped that perhaps she might plead her case with the King, but there was to be a war and she was but an insignificant woman to be traded for the promise of men and arms.

If they married her to the Marquis of Leominster, she would die by her own hand rather than let him take her to his bed.

She sank to her knees, praying that something or someone would help her, but she knew that she was alone and friendless. Even Owain had deserted her—she had had no word from him in all this time.

Melissa’s head was aching as she was led across the courtyard the next morning and taken to her own rooms. The guards who had escorted her thrust her inside and the door was locked behind her. They were taking good care that she should not escape, though there was little likelihood of that, for where could she go?

Rhona had been packing a trunk with Melissa’s clothes, but she smiled and came towards her. ‘You need food and fresh clothes, my lady,’ Rhona said. ‘I dare say you did not sleep last night.’

‘No, I could not,’ Melissa agreed. ‘You know what my father has planned for me?’

‘Yes, my lady,’ Rhona said. ‘Is there no one who would help you?’

Melissa shook her head. ‘My mother’s kinswoman, Alanna Davies, might have helped me if she could—but I do not know how to reach her. Besides, what could she do now that the King has given his permission for my marriage?’

‘Is there no one else—Robert of Melford? Would he not come if you asked?’

‘He hates me now,’ Melissa said sadly. ‘If I had not sent him away…But you know that I had no choice. Nothing has changed.’

‘I am not sure,’ Rhona said. ‘I have heard that he has become a powerful knight with many followers since he returned from Angers—and he saved us in the forest. He took you to the Abbey. If he truly hated you, he might have held you captive and demanded a ransom for your return.’

‘Perhaps…’ Melissa sighed. ‘He is brave enough to stand up to my father, I know that—and if he has followers he might be victorious, but why should he help me?’

‘Will you not send him word?’

‘It would do no good,’ Melissa said. She saw that Rhona was doubtful. ‘There is something else you would say?’

‘Agnes is here. She begs that you will see her, my lady. She swears that she did nothing to harm the Abbess. She says that she ran away because she heard that she had been accused and was afraid.’

‘Do you believe her?’

‘I am not sure,’ Rhona said. ‘Until that night we had no reason to doubt her—and you have only Sister Cecile’s word that she saw her near your aunt’s chamber.’

‘Yes, that is true.’ Melissa was uncertain. ‘Very well, I shall see her—but we must be careful, Rhona. We should watch her and see what she does. Do not trust her too much.’

‘Shall I ask her to come in?’

‘Yes, please.’

Melissa walked to her bed and sat down, taking off her wimple to let her hair cascade down her back. She had thought that Agnes was gone for good, and she was not sure how to greet her.

Agnes came into the room looking nervous. She stood just inside the door, her hands clasped in front of her. ‘Forgive me for deserting you. I was afraid that I should be accused of murder and…’

‘Did you give the Abbess poison, Agnes?’

‘No, I swear I did not,’ the girl said. ‘I did not mean to harm the Abbess. She begged me for her medicine, because she was in pain. I poured some into a cup and she drank it. I did nothing more.’

‘Do you swear it on the Body of Christ?’

‘On my honour I gave her only what she asked of me.’

‘But what were you doing in her chamber?’

‘I lost my way and heard her cry out in pain. I tried only to help her.’ Agnes was white, the fear in her eyes as she fell on her knees before Melissa. ‘Forgive me. I did not know what I did.’

‘Did you not know that some medicines can kill as well as heal?’ Melissa saw that the woman was frightened and wondered if after all it had been an accident, and yet the doubt was still there. ‘I should write to the Bishop and tell him of your sin. Do you know what they would do to a woman who murdered the Abbess who had given her shelter for the night? I think that if you came before the church courts they would show you no mercy. They would say you were a witch and you would hang and afterwards they would burn your body.’

‘I beg you, do not denounce me.’

Melissa hesitated. She was minded to dismiss the woman, but knew that if she did Agnes would be forced to work in the kitchens for she would not easily find work elsewhere. And she did not know for certain that she was guilty of anything, other than ignorance.

‘Very well, I shall not send you away for the moment—though you will not serve me again. You may take your instructions from Rhona, but I do not want you near me. You may go now.’

‘Yes, my lady.’ Agnes kept her eyes downcast, but once she had left the room they blazed with anger and she placed her ear to the door, listening.

‘She is not to serve me,’ Melissa said to Rhona. ‘She may wash and mend—but I do not want her in my chamber.’

Rhona nodded, pleased that she was to be her mistress’s chief attendant. ‘Do you not think it might be worth sending word to Robert of Melford?’

‘I do not think he would care what becomes of me,’ Melissa said. ‘But I shall send word to Owain and ask him to come to me. He may know where Alanna lives—or someone else who would take me in.’

‘I am watched,’ Rhona said. ‘We need someone we can trust to take your message…’

‘Then ask the priest to come to me. I wish for his blessing—but do it secretly for I do not want anyone else to know.’

‘Yes, my lady. I shall go at once.’

Outside the door, Agnes darted away before it could open. She had known full well what she did when she gave the Abbess her medicine, and she would report everything to her master. He had paid her generously on her return from the Abbey—and would give her a dowry if she continued to serve him.

Rob was sitting in his father’s chair, which he had brought downstairs to his chamber. His head was bent over his work as he honed the edge of his sword to a fine sharpness that would cut through bone like butter. For some reason, his cheek was throbbing as it did at times, though the skin had long since healed over, due to the care lavished on him by the faithful Megan. She had laid poultices of herbs and cures on his tortured flesh, nursing him through his fever but her herbs had not healed the deep-seated pain that was eating away inside him.

Melissa would not be banished from his mind. She had haunted him these past few nights, and he had an odd feeling that she was in some kind of trouble. Yet what could it matter to him? She was a deceiver and faithless and he was well rid of her…but sometimes in the dark of night, it seemed that she came to him in his dreams and it was as before when they loved each other.

‘You know that I would never betray you,’ she had cried in his dream the previous night. ‘I need you…I need you…’ But he was a fool and the dream was only that. He was nothing to her and she could be nothing more to him.

He looked up from his work as David entered the room. Seeing that his steward carried a sealed letter, he reached for it with impatience thinking it some unimportant estate matter. However, when he broke the seal and read the contents, he gave a great shout of joy. It was the summons he had been waiting for since his return to the Marches.

‘It has come,’ he cried. ‘Henry Tudor has landed with a force of two thousand men and bids me meet him with all the fighters I have raised. God be praised! At last we shall have some action.’

‘It is what you need, Rob,’ his steward said. ‘You have been brooding too much of late…’ He raised his eyes looking at the man he loved as a son. ‘She has bewitched you! You have not been the same since she sent you away. No woman is worth the agony you have endured because of her!’

‘You have not seen her,’ Rob said, and for a moment the old smile was there in his eyes. ‘Besides, she did not do this—my wound was courtesy of her brother. She was distressed when she saw it.’

‘You would be a fool to forgive her. She is the daughter of your father’s enemy. I do not like to see you brought so low by a woman’s treachery.’

‘Perhaps it was my own fault,’ Rob said with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘Have you seen Owain Davies? He was to ride with us, but I have not seen him for some days.’

‘I think he had some business of his own,’ David said. ‘A message came for him from the Abbey and he left at once. He said that if the summons came before he returned he would meet you on the field of battle.’

‘Then he will keep his word,’ Rob said. ‘I shall leave today for Shrewsbury for I wish to speak with Morgan of Hywell. He would not give his promise until he was sure that Henry really meant to come—but now I am certain he will agree.’

‘As you wish, sir,’ David said. ‘Forgive me if I spoke out of turn, Rob—but I know she made you suffer.’

‘I could never be angry with you,’ Rob said. ‘Besides, you were right—she is not worth the pain she has caused.’

Rob tested the blade of his sword. Melissa was false and it was foolish to lie in torment each night thinking of her. Yet the scent of her was imprinted into his senses, and he could not forget how it had felt to hold her in his arms. He still wanted her, burned for her, even though she might be a proud witch who had merely played with his emotions.

He left the chamber, shouting orders to his servants. He must ride with all haste to Shrewsbury and give Morgan of Hywell the news that Henry Tudor was to come. At last he had something to do and could forget his own problems for the moment.

Melissa rode in stony silence. Her father had sent Harold in his place to see her wed, for he was too busy to accompany her to his cousin’s fortress. She had been told that she was to be betrothed to the Marquis of Leominster when she reached the stronghold in the north of England. The marriage would take place almost at once after the betrothal, and she would leave the Earl of Gifford’s home to travel to that of her new husband not far from the city of Nottingham. What was more, she had been denied Rhona’s company and given Agnes as her only attendant.

‘You think that I do not know you plotted with Rhona to escape me again,’ Lord Whitbread had told her. ‘Well, I am not a fool, daughter—and you shall have Agnes to serve you. I know that she is loyal to me and will guard you well until you are safely wed—as for the other, your maid may think herself lucky if I do not give her to Harold for his sport.’

‘Do that, Father, and I shall never reach the earl’s house alive.’

‘You defy me still?’ Whitbread took her arm. ‘The girl is safe—but if I hear that you have somehow escaped from your brother’s care, she will die. Do you hear me?’

Melissa had not answered him, but she knew that he would carry out his threat if she escaped or took her own life before she was the Marquis of Leominster’s wife. She had no choice but to make the journey to the earl’s house and see what presented itself then. Perhaps there was some way out of her dilemma, though she did not know what it might be, for her freedom might mean Rhona’s death.

Melissa had met the Earl of Gifford only once. He was her father’s cousin and a tall, thin man with a long nose. She recalled that she had not liked him when he visited with her father some years previously—but she had not disliked his wife, who was a pretty woman with pale hair and limpid blue eyes. She would not have minded the visit so much had it not been for the shadow that hung over her—the fear that they would force her to marry a man she did not know and could not like.

All she had heard of the Marquis of Leominster was that he was a hard, cold man and twice her age. She had learned from the casual talk of the men who rode with her that he was known for his brutality. He had, it was said, taken the wife of one of his neighbours after a dispute between them, keeping her a prisoner and using her as his mistress until he had tired of her. He then turned her out, but when she returned to her husband he would not have her back for she had dishonoured his name. Friendless and broken, she had walked into a river and drowned herself.

What kind of a father would sell his daughter to a man like that? Melissa shuddered at the thought of her likely fate if she became Leominster’s wife. She would rather die by her own hand! It was a sin to take your own life, but Melissa thought that she would risk eternal damnation rather than live in the hell that such a marriage would bring—but had she the right to condemn Rhona to a cruel death?

‘We shall break our journey at the next inn, sister.’ Harold’s voice brought her back from her reverie. ‘We have made good time and you must be weary.’

Melissa flashed him a look of dislike. ‘Do not pretend to consider my needs, Harold. I am not hungry. I would prefer to continue until we reach our resting place for the night.’

‘Well, I am hungry if you are not,’ Harold told her, a sulky expression in his eyes. ‘I swear I know not why Leominster wants a sharp-tongued witch like you for a bride. Give me a woman with a merry laugh and a warm heart, anytime.’ She was too thin for his tastes, for he was used to seeking his pleasures in the arms of a plump tavern wench. His father had taught him to fight and given him a hunger for good living, though he lacked all the qualities and refinements of a true knight.

Melissa had tried to feel affection for him, but his coarseness and his surly manner had killed any feeling she might have had for him. She lifted her head, a look of scorn in her eyes.

‘I am sorry that I do not find favour in your eyes, brother. I wish that you might allow me to slip away to an Abbey and save yourself the trouble of this journey.’

‘If it were up to me, I would slit your throat and be done with it,’ Harold said, an evil leer on his lips. ‘I cannot see why we may not just take your lands for ourselves, but Father says it must be done within the law.’

‘I thank you for your kind words, brother,’ Melissa said. She turned her head from him. ‘I care not what becomes of me.’

‘And I care even less,’ her brother snarled. ‘Because of you I may miss all the excitement. Father has heard that Henry Tudor is bringing an army from France. That is why he could not spare the time to escort you himself. He has received a summons to join the King. And I might have gone with him if it had not been for you.’

‘I am sorry to be such a trouble to you—but let me go to an Abbey and you may ride to join the King’s army.’

‘And earn my father’s displeasure? You would love that, sister.’ He glared at her. ‘Just remember that I do not have Father’s scruples concerning you, Melissa. If you were dead it would suit me very well…’

‘Yes, I know,’ Melissa replied. ‘But you have no need to fear me, Harold. Father would never disinherit you for me.’

‘Not for you,’ Harold said, eyes cold as they rested on her face. ‘But you might have a son…’

‘But my son would not bear his name,’ Melissa reminded him. ‘You are safe unless Father has a legitimate son, which he cannot unless he marries again.’

Harold shot a startled look at her. ‘You do not think he intends to take another wife?’

‘I have no idea, brother,’ Melissa said. ‘For your sake I hope not—but you can never be sure. Father is still a strong man and capable of giving his wife a son.’

‘What do you know?’ Harold demanded his eyes narrowed. ‘Have you heard something?’

‘Father would not tell me,’ Melissa said. ‘But it is a thought…’

‘He would not marry without telling me,’ Harold declared, but there was a frown on his face as they rode into the inn courtyard.

Melissa smiled inwardly. She had given her brother something else to think about, and perhaps he would forget about her…but even if she had the chance, she could not in all conscience run away.

Rob gave his horse to the young lad who came running, tossing him a small coin for his trouble. He was at the outskirts of Shrewsbury and meant only to eat something while his horse was rested. He had come alone, giving his men orders to meet him at the appointed place the following day, for he would pass the night at the house of Morgan of Hywell.

It was as he was crossing the inn yard that he saw the woman lingering at the edge of the woods he had just left. She had not seen him, but seemed furtive, as if she wanted to slip away and did not quite dare. For a moment he hesitated, and then walked swiftly towards her. It was dangerous in those woods for there were armed men everywhere.

‘Melissa? What are you doing here?’ he demanded, his voice harsh.

Melissa turned, her startled gaze on his face. ‘Oh, it is you,’ she said, and caught her breath on a sob. ‘I thought it was Harold…’

‘Your half brother is here?’

‘Yes, he is taking me to the north to my kinsman’s house. I…am to be married…’ Her eyes were wide, dark with longing as she looked at him. To be so close to him and yet unable to speak from her heart! If only Rhona were safe, she would beg him to take her away, now, before her brother could stop them!

‘I see…’ Rob’s expression hardened, ignoring the look of appeal in her eyes. ‘Then I wish you every happiness, lady.’ His mouth curled with bitterness and he was about to turn away, but she caught his sleeve, making him turn to look at her again. ‘What more would you have of me?’

‘I shall not be happy in this marriage for I can never love my husband. Surely you know that I shall only ever love one man?’

‘Indeed? How should I know that?’

She hesitated, ‘Sir…are you here alone?’

‘Yes, why do you ask?’ His eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘I am armed even if alone and your brother would not have the advantage of me now. They tied my arms that day I came to ask for you for I brought no weapons.’ He touched the sword that hung across his chest. ‘I am more than a match for Harold of Meresham!’

‘But he is not alone, for he has ten armed men.’ Melissa stopped because she had seen Harold come to the door of the inn to look for her. Her chance of escape had gone, if she had ever had one. She gave a little sob of fear, because alone Rob had no chance against her half brother and his men. Besides, if she went with Rob, her father would carry out his threat against her serving woman. She was bound as surely as if Harold had her in chains. ‘No, you are right—how should you know that I loved you? Except that had you loved me, you would not have believed me capable of what they did to you. Forget me, I will not be the cause of your death. My brother looks for me. I must go.’

She ran away from him. Rob turned to look and saw that Harold of Meresham was at the inn door. He saw him take a rough hold of her arm and give her a shake and frowned. For a moment he was tempted to go after him and challenge him. He would like to plunge his sword deep into the blaggard’s heart, but Melissa’s words had warned him. He was alone and it was unlikely that Harold would meet him in single combat—and he could not afford to be wounded now. Nigh on two hundred men had promised to follow him, and Henry would need every man if he were to win his cause.

He turned away. He would walk into the town and seek out Morgan of Hywell. It was for this he had come—and Melissa was promised to marry another. She had gone to her brother willingly and therefore must be happy with the marriage, despite the way she had looked at him.

‘Who were you talking to?’ Harold asked as he hustled her inside the inn, his fingers digging into her soft upper arm. ‘And what were you doing outside the inn?’

‘I went out for some air, because my head aches,’ Melissa said. ‘I am feeling unwell…’ She gave a little sigh and sagged against him, knowing that she must hold his attention until Rob had time to leave. If Harold had seen him he would undoubtedly have killed him. ‘I think I must rest here for a few hours, Harold. I may be sickening for something.’

‘If this is one of your tricks…’ Harold glared at her. ‘Do not try my patience too far, Melissa. I would as soon break your neck as look at you!’

Melissa smiled. ‘I know that you have no love for me, brother—but my father wants this alliance with Leominster. I should take care if I were you.’

She did not know why, but the brief encounter with Rob had lifted her spirits. He was still angry, she had sensed that, but while she lived there was still hope that she might see him again—and perhaps one day she could tell him the truth and he would no longer hate her.

‘I am glad to see you, Robert of Melford,’ Morgan Hywell said, and took his hand. ‘Now that Henry has set foot on Welsh soil I shall give you my affinity. I was doubtful that he would come, but he has and I shall give him my support. You will stay with us this night?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Rob said. ‘It is good of you to offer, sir. I rode here in all haste as soon as the news arrived.’

‘I am glad to be with you at last,’ Morgan Hywell said. ‘And now, I would like you to meet the lady who orders my house for me—Mistress Alanna Davies. She is cousin to Owain Davies and was kinsman to the wife of Lord Whitbread.’

Alanna was a tall lady, quite stout and no longer young. She dressed in dark clothes and wore only a wimple to cover her hair—but Rob saw something in her face that seemed familiar, though he could not place it.

‘You are Owain Davies’ cousin, lady,’ he said. ‘He is with us in the cause and we are friends, for he once saved my life.’

‘I have not seen Owain for some years,’ Alanna said. ‘I was living then with my lady—but after she died I left the castle and came here…’

‘Whitbread threatened her and she was in fear of her life for some time,’ Morgan Hywell said. ‘But the years have passed and I daresay he has forgotten her.’

‘I have not forgot him or what he did to my lady,’ Alanna said. ‘But I must say no more for if he should hear gossip…’ She shook her head. ‘Come, I shall show you to your chamber, sir, because you will want to refresh yourself before we eat.’

Rob followed her upstairs. It was a substantial house, for Morgan of Hywell was a rich merchant and an important man in his town, which was why he had not been prepared to offer his support until he was sure that Henry Tudor had come. Now that he had, he would bring at least thirty men to their cause.

‘I trust you will be comfortable here, sir?’

‘I thank you yes.’ Rob detained her as she would have left. ‘You may trust me, lady. What did Lord Whitbread do to Melissa’s mother?’

‘You know her?’ Alanna’s face was wistful. ‘I have oft wished to see her—but it was impossible. You see, he knew that I had seen him leave my lady’s chamber—and that I suspected what he had done.’ Her eyes were dark with remembered horror. ‘He beat her so badly that she died of her injuries. He told everyone that she died of a childbed fever, but it was not so—he murdered her.’

‘May he rot in hell!’ Rob was angry. He knew that Melissa had often wished that she had known her mother, for she had told him as they walked together in the meadows: it had been a source of great grief to her. ‘One day he will pay for his many crimes, lady. I promise you that…’

‘I have often prayed that he might suffer for what he did,’ she said. ‘But I could do nothing…he would have killed me had I not run away. Perhaps I should have taken the child? I have often wished it, but then he would never have let me be.’

‘I thank you for telling me,’ Rob said. ‘I can tell you that your lady’s child is to be married, though I amnot sure that is of her own choosing…’ He could not shake the look he had seen in her eyes from his mind; it had begun to haunt him, for he had sensed that she was in distress.

Alanna nodded and went out, leaving him alone. He was thoughtful for he had remembered Melissa’s words. He had been too angry to listen to her at the time, but now they had come back to him.

You should know that I shall only ever love one man.

Had she meant to say that she loved him? Rob frowned as he thought it over. If she meant that…but he would be a fool to believe her. She had sworn that she loved him and would marry him—but then she had driven him away with words intended to cut him to the heart, as they had. Her father had not been in the room. If he had forbidden the marriage there had been nothing to stop her telling him so. He could recall her every word, remember the proud way she held her head, the coldness in her eyes as she told him that she did not wish to see him again.

Why would she have done that if she loved him?

‘Wait one moment, sir,’ Alanna came to him as he was about to mount his horse the next morning. ‘I have something I must tell you…’

‘Something you wish me to tell Owain perhaps?’

‘Yes. It would be best if he knew what I saw—though it is only a suspicion. I cannot swear to the truth of it, but I have thought…’ She raised her head, looking at Rob. ‘I know that I told you my lady was murdered—and it is true that he beat her. She sent me on an errand the next day, and when I returned he told me she was dead…but I think I may have seen her since then.’

‘Where?’

‘In the Isle of Ely, at the shrine of Saint Ethelreda,’ Alanna said. ‘It was Ethelreda who began the great Cathedral there and they say she has the power to work miracles. I went there with Morgan who made the pilgrimage to pray for his son…and a woman came up to me. She pressed a lily into my hand and then walked quickly away.’

‘Did you see her face? Did you know her?’

‘I did not notice her until she gave me the lily, but I recall that her head was clothed in shawls that covered her face and she was dressed shabbily. I thought nothing of it until later, and by that time she had disappeared—but that particular lily was always Elspeth’s favourite.’

‘And you thought it was her because of the lily?’

‘Yes, I began to believe so as I thought about it. I asked Morgan to make inquiries in the Isle of Ely and he has, but nothing has come of it.’

‘The evidence is slight.’ Rob frowned for it was unlikely that the woman could have been Melissa’s mother.

‘Yes. I have done nothing more for I thought I must have been mistaken—but I think Owain should know.’

‘Then I shall tell him,’ Rob said, and smiled at her. ‘This has lain on your conscience for years, has it not?’ She nodded. ‘Very well, you may rest easy, for I am sure that Owain will do what he can. He is very loyal to Melissa.’

‘And not only Melissa,’ Alanna said, standing back as Rob mounted his horse.

As he rode away, Rob wondered what she had meant by her last remark.

Melissa awoke from her dream. It had been so pleasant, for it was of the time when she had first met Rob. In those early days she had not thought of anything but the pleasure that came from seeing him smile at her.

He was so handsome, his eyes so bold and filled with laughter. She had never been teased and had hardly known how to respond to him, but she had loved him…she had loved him from the first.

She was sure that he had loved her then. They had walked together hand in hand, often saying nothing but just content to be together. Sometimes he had taken her up on his great horse and they had ridden for hours at a time, his arms about her, her head back against his chest…just as they had after he had saved her from those rogues.

A sob rose in her throat for she had felt his anger that day, and known that the gentle loving knight she had known was gone forever. In his place was a man with cold eyes who looked at her as if he hated her.

Yet she would still have begged for his help at Shrewsbury if she had not feared for his life and that of Rhona. And despite his anger, she believed that he would have given it—as he had that day in the forest.

The tears trickled slowly down her cheeks, because she had loved him so much, so very much…and now he hated her. She touched the small jade heart he had bought her at the fair, which she had hidden inside her gown next to her own heart. It was all she had left of the happiness that might have been hers…a trinket and her memories.

They were approaching their destination and unless she could think of some way to delay their journey, she would soon be the Marquis of Leominster’s wife!