Elizabeth Chadwick - The Love Knot

die, and if fortune throws it face down he will try his luck at another game.

The knight rubbed a slick, white scar on his cheek. 'I do not know… he prevaricated. 'What if he arrives on the morrow and discovers that we have yielded the keep?

Catrin gritted her teeth. 'He is not returning, Berold. I doubt that we can hold out until the morrow anyway. I have to do my best for these people, my daughter and myself.

Grudgingly the old man nodded. 'But what if their terms are not lenient?

'They will be, she said, with far more confidence than she felt. 'I am not without influence of my own.

Berold pinched his scar and frowned. 'Aye, but I had heard that it was influence with King Stephen. These men are all for the Empress.

'You heard but only half the tale. She started towards the hall door, knowing that if she did not move she would scream. 'And that is the problem with listening to my husband. I cannot pull victory out of defeat but I hope I can lessen the damage.

The leader of the attacking troops was a hard-bitten Welshman called Madoc. He was somewhat surprised, not to say indignant, at being asked to parley with a woman, a swaddled infant and a small, scarred knight with about as much presence as a dead chicken.

'Is this a mark of Wickham's respect or the best you can do? he scoffed.

? 'You should not mock our best, since it has held you at bay for longer than you wish, Catrin replied with spirit. 'The snow will come soon and it will be difficult to keep your men in the field.

'Oh, I intend to be within Wickham's walls long before the first flakes fall. Fists clenched in his swordbelt, the soldier studied her. 'But you have come to parley, not to bandy words. What is it you want?

Catrin shifted Rosamund's sleepy weight on her arm. Beside her she could feel Berold's tension. He was far from happy with the situation but could see that they had small choice. 'In return for a guarantee of safety for everyone in Wickham from the richest to poorest, I will yield the castle to you.

The Welshman considered her. He had coppery hair and eyes of a narrow, flint-grey. No battle scars marred his face but it was pitted by the old marks of spotted fever. 'You will yield the castle? He raised his brows. 'Is yours then the sole authority? What of the lord of this place?

'He is not here, she said, and met his gaze steadily.

'Ah. He looked thoughtful. 'Now we come to the meat of the matter. Does that mean that he has not been here at all for the duration of the siege, or that he has seen fit to make himself scarce in consideration of his own hide?

'It would not be seemly for me to answer that question, Catrin said. 'You may draw your own conclusions. All that concerns me is the safety of these people and my daughter.

The Welshman pursed his lips. 'I would have to think about that, he said. 'The lads are owed some compensation for freezing their balls off these past three weeks.

Catrin shrugged indifferently. 'There is plunder enough in the keep to pay a hundred ransoms, she said, 'although I would counsel you against harming anyone within.

Madoc gave a disbelieving snort. 'You would, eh?

Catrin drew herself up. 'It is true that my husband is one of Stephen's knights, but in the recent past I have been a chamber lady to the Countess of Gloucester and I am known personally to Earl Robert. For a time I was nurse to his youngest half-brother, one of the old King's sons. I have powerful connections.

She watched him consider whether to believe her. Catrin knew that she had slightly overstated her case concerning her influence, but all the rest was true.

A soldier who had been standing in the background came forward and whispered in his commander's ear, his eyes upon her.

Madoc listened and nodded. A glint of wintry humour entered his eyes. 'Ascelin here was at Bristol too, he said to her. 'He remembers you well, and kindly so it seems.

Catrin did not recognise the man, but then so many of them looked the same in their mail and helms.

'You were at my wife's lying in, the soldier said. 'You and the old woman delivered our son. He's going on two years old now and sturdy as a young oak.

Catrin smiled whilst panicking about what else he was going to reveal. 'I'm glad to hear it, she murmured.

'You had that shelter in the bailey. He frowned. 'I thought that you were betrothed to that hearth knight of the Earl's.

'I was. It is a long tale, and not a happy one. But you can confirm the fact that I was at Bristol and known to the Earl and Countess.

'Indeed, my lady.

She looked down at the sleeping baby in her arms and then at Madoc who had been listening to the exchange with interest. 'I care little for either side in this war. All I crave is that my daughter should grow up in peace without constantly having to look over her shoulder or worry that each night might be her last on earth.

'Then best send her to a nunnery, Madoc said, but she sensed a softening of his attitude.

'Would she be any safer there? Catrin retorted, holding her own. 'Wherwell nunnery was razed to the ground at the siege of Winchester.

He conceded the point with a twitch of his lips and a spread hand. 'Go where you will, my lady, it matters little to me save that I do not have to spend another night under the sky. 'Then you agree to the bargain? The keys of the castle in exchange for the lives and livelihood of all within?

He sucked his teeth and pondered, finally granting her a curt nod. 'Let it be done. War is war, but why burn and destroy that which is useful?

'Why indeed? Catrin replied, her brow raised in irony.

The Virgo creaked and heaved at her moorings, her stirring ever more restless as the incoming tide lapped her sides. Stars sparkled in the frosty night, and on deck the passengers had wrapped themselves in their cloaks for warmth.

A pouch of silver hung in heavy comfort from Louis's belt.

He had sold his horse and the dice had smiled on him in alehouse and tavern. There were better horses to be had in the Holy Land, swift stallions of hot Arab blood. Swift mares too, dark-eyed, slim-flanked and wild for the riding. There were fortunes to be made, hearts to be won and broken.

If he thought of Wickham at all, it was with the relief of a prisoner unfettered from his chains.

As the wind bellied the sails and the Master's shout sent a sailor to free the mooring and the steersman to take the rudder, Louis de Grosmont cast off his name like a snake shedding an outworn skin. From this moment forth, he was Louis le Pelerin — Louis the Pilgrim.

It was a long, cold road from Wickham to Bristol. Although the distance was little more than fifty miles, it took Catrin over a week to cover it. The roads were unsafe for folk of all rank and those who had to travel did so in groups for protection. On the second day, she joined three monks, a wool merchant and two young men with spears heading for Gloucester. The weather was atrocious and progress so slow through a mizzle of sleet and rain that it was not until the fifth day that they arrived in the city. Two more passed before Catrin felt fit enough to set out on the last leg to Bristol.

She arrived at dusk, Rosamund bawling fretfully in her arms, and was frowned at for her tardiness by the soldier preparing to close the gates for the night. In the castle ward, Etheldreda's shelter was occupied by a cowherd and his family, eating their supper over a fire of dried dung. Her back and buttocks aching from the saddle, her eyes gritty with weariness and strain, Catrin paid a groom to take her tired mare and made her way to the hall.

Steward Bardolf still held his position and tyrannical inclinations. Scowling like the guard at her late arrival, but otherwise not giving her a second glance, he directed her to a place on one of the lowlier trestles near the draught from the door. Through the open screens at either side of the hall, servants hurried back and forth with heaped trenchers. The meaty smells of ragout and pottage, the sight of the baskets of flat loaves on the trestle made Catrin feel faint with hunger. Obviously possessed of a similar affliction, Rosamund continued to whimper and grizzle. Catrin discreetly lifted her cloak, unfastened her gown and put her to suckle.

Grace was said and folk started to eat. Although only having one hand free, Catrin still managed to break bread and help herself to a generous bowl of mutton stew. While eating, she glanced around the hall and saw many familiar faces, but not the one she sought. But then, why should Oliver be here? As often as not he was absent on the Earl's business and a year and a half would not have changed the situation. Between courses, she asked her companions for news, but none of them were well acquainted with Oliver and they could not help her.

As supper finished and the servants cleared the trestles, Catrin made her way to the women's chambers on the upper floor. She was challenged once by a guard, but then he recognised her and, after a smile and a word of greeting, let her pass.

Catrin's breath grew short with tension as she entered rooms which were familiar to her but where she no longer had a right to be.

'Hello, lady, said a very small boy, staring up at her from solemn hazel eyes. He had a mop of curly blond hair and there was a peeled, half-eaten apple in his hand.

'Hello, Catrin responded. 'Who are you?

'Effry, he said, and looked at Rosamund bundled up in Catrin's arms. 'I've got a baby too. He took a bite out of the apple and then offered it to Catrin.