Spring romance at the ca.., p.61
Spring Romance at the Castle, page 61
“But if I say anythin’ right now . . . somethin’ bad might happen.”
“Then all the more reason to say somethin’. If ye willna tell me, then at least tell Da. Mayhap, he can help ye.”
“Nay, Fia, no’ Da! He’s the last person I can tell my secret to right now.”
Bedivere slowly pushed open the solar door, holding his dagger under his cloak. The assassin dressed like the healer finished pouring a potion from a bottle into the cup that Rowen held in front of him. It was poison. Bedivere was sure of it. He had to stop Rook before he drank it.
“Sir Rowen, how are you feeling?” Bedivere held his dagger under the folds of his robe as he approached the table.
Rowen was about to take a drink and stopped, putting the goblet on the table and looking up to answer.
The assassin’s head jerked around and he silently glared at Bedivere.
“I’m about to find out,” said Rowen. “The healer has made a potion that he says is guaranteed to stop my stomach from aching.”
“I’m sure he has.” Bedivere strolled closer to the table, keeping his eye on the assassin at all times. “I came to tell you that Reed and his family have just arrived.
“Reed is here? I’d like to see him,” said Rowen.
“The crowd is filling up the great hall and Reed said if you don’t come right away, he’ll give away your spot at the table.”
“That sounds like my two-faced brother,” Rowen answered with a chuckle. “He’ll probably do it anyway just so there’s more food for him. I’d better get down there right away.”
He stepped away from the table but the healer stopped him. “Sir Rowen, you had better drink your healing potion before you even think of eating a thing.”
“Aye, I almost forgot.” Rowen reached out for it, but Bedivere couldn’t let him drink the poison. He reached out for the cup at the same time.
“I’ll get it for you,” Bedivere told him, purposely knocking over the cup. The potion spilled out and spread across the table, dribbling down to the floor.
“You bastard, you did that on purpose,” growled the healer under his breath.
“What did you call him?” asked Rowen, looking at the healer in a not-so-friendly manner, not liking the word bastard used in his presence.
“Lord Rowen, I’ll make you another potion, don’t leave,” said the man.
“Nay, I don’t think I need it any longer.” Rowen glared at him. “You don’t seem very respectful for a healer. I’m surprised Lady Ernestine keeps you around.”
“My apologies, my lord,” said the man, bowing and putting on a grand show.
“Come, Sir Bedivere, let’s go to the great hall to meet my brother,” said Rowen.
“I’ll meet you there,” Bedivere told him. “Since I’m responsible for the spill, it is only fair that I stay and clean up the mess.”
“Have it your way.” Rowen shook his head and headed out the door, closing it behind him.
As soon as the door closed, the assassin pulled a dagger out of his medicine bag and lunged at Bedivere. Bedivere jumped back, stumbling a little but righted himself again.
“Why did you have to interfere?” snarled the man, gritting his teeth. “I almost had him where I wanted him.”
“You will kill him over my dead body,” Bedivere told him.
“I will gladly kill you first, and then all three of the bastards as well.”
They struggled with each other, fighting and holding each other’s hands back from being stabbed. Bedivere was thrown against the wall next to the window. The man was very strong. And when he ran at him again with his blade in his outstretched arm, Bedivere quickly rolled to the side, reaching out and pushing the man right out the open window.
The assassin screamed as he fell to the ground several stories below. Bedivere ran to the window and looked out. It was the back of the castle and the man fell right on a rake that was left there to clean out the gong pit.
The door opened and Percival hurried in. “Brother, Morag told me you were up here and I came right away to see if I could help.” He looked around the room. “Where is everyone?”
“Lord Rowen is down at the great hall where I’d like to be right now,” Bedivere told him. He pushed his dagger into his waist belt and brushed off his clothes.
“All right. Let’s go eat,” said Percival with a smile, liking the idea.
“In a moment,” said Bedivere. “We’ve got one task to attend to first.”
Chapter 21
The meal was nearly over before Morag spotted Bedivere and his brother walking into the great hall.
“Bedivere, up here.” Morag sat at the dais between her father and Lady Ernestine, waving her hand wildly in the air.
“Dinna call that murderer over here,” Reed mumbled under his breath.
“Da,” Morag whispered. “Dinna call him that.”
“Well, that’s what he is. And ye will no’ go anywhere near the man, do ye hear me?”
“Lady Morag, I have all the plans made for your wedding on the morrow,” said Lady Ernestine, smiling widely. “You and Sir Bedivere will be married in the morning and I’ve already decided on who I’d like to nominate to claim my late husband’s holdings. I’m sure King Richard will agree.”
“My daughter will no’ be marryin’ anyone,” spat Reed.
“I’m sorry.” Lady Ernestine glanced at Morag. “Morag, I thought you’d talked to your father and already had his permission.”
“No’ yet,” she said, making a face. “But I’m sure my da will agree to the marriage once he gets to ken my betrothed a little better. Mayhap, I need just a little more time.”
“Ye dinna need more time and ye dinna need to bother because ye’ll never convince me,” Reed told her. “Morag, ye will no’ be marryin’ that sad excuse for a man, and neither are we stayin’ any longer in Rothbury. We will leave for Scotland first thing in the mornin’.” He pushed away from the table in a huff.
“Sir Bedivere saved my life,” Lady Ernestine told Reed. “I assure you, he is a good man.”
“Harumph!” scoffed Reed. “If he saved yer life, I am sure it was by accident, because men like Bedivere only ken one thing and I assure ye it has nothin’ to do with preservin’ a life.” He stormed away from the table.
“What did that mean?” Lady Ernestine picked up her goblet to drink.
“It doesna matter.” Morag got up and hurried over to her mother. “Mathair, talk some sense into Da. Please. Canna ye convince him to let me marry Sir Bedivere?”
“I’ll try,” said Morag’s mother, reaching out and putting her hand over Morag’s. “But ye ken yer faither is a verra stubborn man.”
“He is ruinin’ my life! He doesna care about me at all.”
“Nay, Morag, that’s no’ true.” Maggie’s brows dipped in concern. “Yer faither loves ye verra much and is only tryin’ to protect ye.”
“I’m no’ the one that needs protectin’. He is!” Morag hurried away to join Bedivere.
“Morag, I’m sorry I’m late.” Bedivere looked over to Reed who was plowing his way across the crowded room, heading out the door. “What’s got your father so upset?”
“Our marriage,” she told him. “He hasna agreed to it. Yet. But I’ll convince him of it in time. How did things go with the . . . healer?” Morag’s eyes darted back and forth.
“It’s all taken care of. Now, we only need to worry about Whitmore. Have you seen him anywhere?” Bedivere made a quick scan of the room.
“Nay, and neither do I want to. I dinna want anythin’ to do with the man ever again.”
“Morag,” called out Fia. “We’ve decided to go for a stroll around the castle grounds.” Morag looked up to see her sister, along with Willow and Maira, headed right for her. “I saw how upset Da was and thought ye might like to talk with us.”
“Well, I’m no’ sure.” Morag’s eyes flew over to Bedivere. She’d yet to find out what their next move was, plus she wanted to talk to him more about how to convince her father that Bedivere was a good man. Without revealing his secrets, it was going to be nearly impossible to change her father’s mind.
“Go on,” instructed Bedivere. “It would be good for you to forget about your troubles for a while and spend some time with your sister and cousins.”
“If ye’re sure,” said Morag, still hesitant to leave him.
“I have some more business to attend to anyway, so I’ll see you later.” Bedivere leaned over and gave Morag a quick kiss on the mouth before heading away.
“He’s actually not a bad looking man,” observed her cousin, Maira.
“Too bad he’s an assassin,” said Willow under her breath. “Morag, you want nothing to do with that man.”
“He’s a guid man,” Morag assured the girls. “If I could tell ye the secret I promised to keep to myself, ye would understand this, too.”
“You want us to believe you’re harboring a secret?” asked Willow with a chuckle.
“We know you all too well,” added Maira. “If there was a secret, you would have told us by now.”
“There is one. Ye have to believe me,” she tried to convince them.
“Morag, I have Mathair watchin’ the baby for now,” said Fia. “Why dinna we go for a walk to help clear yer head?”
“My head is clear,” she protested. However, by the looks they gave her, she realized she was going to have to tell them something more before they’d ever believe her. “I’ve also been gettin’ mentored by Imanie’s sister, Mazelina.”
“Morag, Imanie doesna have a sister,” Fia told her.
“How do ye ken?”
“If she does, she never mentioned it to us,” said Maira.
“This is another one of Morag’s made up stories,” said Willow with sigh.
“Nay, it’s true,” she tried to convince them.
“Then show her to us,” challenged Willow, rubbing her huge stomach. “That is, unless she is naught but made up in your mind.”
“Stop it. All of ye,” cried Morag. “It is true and I will prove it.” She looked across the great hall to see Bedivere talking with Whitmore. Bedivere had warned her not to go out unescorted into the woods. But she wouldn’t be unescorted if her sister and cousins were with her. Maira would protect her since she was skilled with a sword. Mayhap, she’d even let Branton come along. The assassins were dead now and Whitmore was here, so what would it matter? She had to convince the girls that she wasn’t lying.
“How are you going to prove it?” asked Maira.
“I’ll let ye meet Mazelina,” Morag told them.
“Where is she?” asked Fia.
“I am no’ sure. But she was in the secret garden so let’s take a ride and see if she is still there.”
“The secret garden?” asked Fia. “I dinna think I should go. I promised Alastair I wouldna have anythin’ to do with the Followers of the Secret Heart anymore.”
“Alastair isna here, Sister,” Morag pointed out. “And ye are no’ bein’ involved in anythin’. We are goin’ for a harmless ride to a deserted garden, and that’s all.”
“Well, I suppose it’ll be all right then,” agreed Fia.
“I’m glad I didn’t make my husband any kind of foolish promise like that,” said Willow. “I’m ready to go meet Mazelina.”
“I’ll be sure to bring my sword to protect us,” offered Maira.
“Let’s bring Branton along as well,” Morag suggested.
“Branton?” asked Maira. “Whatever for?”
“I promised Bedivere I wouldna leave the castle without an escort,” Morag explained.
“Then Branton it is,” said Fia. “Now, let’s take one last ride to the secret garden for old time’s sake.”
Bedivere noticed Morag leaving the great hall with her sister and cousins and was glad she was surrounded by those she loved. Hopefully, in a matter of time, he’d free his mother and he, too, could be with his entire family again.
“You look as if you’re up to no good,” Whitmore told Bedivere. “What did you do? And why is Sir Rowen here in the great hall? I thought my man took him above stairs for a little meeting.”
“That meeting was cut short for your man, sorry to say.” Bedivere flashed a smile.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Whitmore ground out. “You’ll pay for this, you fool.”
“Nay, I won’t.” Bedivere directed the man to a corner where they could speak in private. “Neither will I finish my last job.”
“You have to. If you don’t, you’ll never see your mother again.”
Bedivere was caught in the middle of a hard situation and needed to remedy the matter once and for all.
“I am willing to make some kind of deal for the release of my mother and to be set free of anything to do with you ever again,” he told the man.
Whitmore thought for a second and then nodded. “All right. We’ll make a deal.”
“Sir Bedivere,” someone called out. “I’d like to have a word with ye please.”
Bedivere looked up to see Reed waving him down from across the hall. It was the last thing he needed right now.
“Meet with me in the orchard tonight and we’ll discuss this,” said Bedivere, hoping to set up a meeting where Whitmore would confess everything and the bastard triplets were present as witnesses to hear it. If so, he should be able to lock the man away forever and save his mother as well as the bastards.
“Nay, not there. We’ll meet somewhere more private. In the woods,” said Whitmore. “Meet me at the edge of the earl’s lands in an hour.”
“Done,” said Bedivere. “But don’t try to pull anything over on me, or I swear I’ll kill you.”
“The same goes for me. You had better come alone if you know what’s good for you. If not, you’ll be sorry.”
“Bedivere,” ground out Reed, walking up to join them. “I’ll have a word with ye regardin’ my daughter, Morag.”
“Pardon me, but I’ll be on my way,” said Whitmore.
“Wait!” said Reed, looking at him from the corner of his eye. “Who are ye?”
“This is Lord John Whitmore,” said Bedivere, introducing him.
“Whitmore? The advisor to King Richard?” asked Reed.
“I am,” said Whitmore with a nod.
“Ye are the man who is convincin’ Richard to give ye all the lands and riches of knights and barons that are killed,” he spat. “I’ve heard of ye. My brathairs told me all about ye.”
“I d-don’t know what you’re talking about,” stuttered the man.
“Well, dinna think ye’ll get Earl Rothbury’s fief as well. I’ll see to it that Lady Ernestine doesna give it to the likes of ye.”
“I think you’ve got the wrong impression of me,” said Whitmore. “I am only here visiting and not competing for the earl’s holdings. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go.”
“I dinna like him,” snarled Reed as Whitmore walked away. “My brathairs have told me all about him and we are goin’ to do somethin’ about it.”
“What do you mean?” asked Bedivere.
“He’s a crook and needs to be stopped. Even though Richard has never been fond of my brathairs and me because we are his grandfaither’s bastard sons, we dinna want to see him fail. We are goin’ to talk to him soon and expose Whitmore for who he really is.”
That was it, thought Bedivere. Whitmore knew the bastard triplets planned on exposing him to the king and that was why Whitmore wanted Bedivere to kill them. It all made sense now. Bedivere’s father probably knew about Whitmore’s doings as well and might have been going to expose him to Richard and that’s why he was killed.
“I don’t like the man either,” said Bedivere, “so I’m glad to hear you feel the same way.”
“I might no’ like Whitmore but I dinna care for ye, either,” said Reed. “And once again, Bedivere, ye willna marry my daughter.”
“I need to speak with you, as well as Rowen and Rook in private,” Bedivere told him.
“About what?”
“It’s a matter that I think you will be very interested in. I’d like to take you for a ride into the woods in an hour because there is something I need you to hear.”
Chapter 22
“Mazelina, are ye here?” Morag called out for the third time, leading the way into the secret garden, followed by the girls as well as Branton.
“I don’t see anyone,” said Maira, holding her sword at the ready should they need it.
“It’s so dead and overgrown that it gives me shivers.” Willow pulled her cloak around her, having dismounted her horse.
“It’s spring and the new buds will be pokin’ their heads out soon,” Morag told her.
“I’ll watch over the horses and also the gate,” offered Branton, taking the reins of the horses from the girls. “I know I’m not supposed to be in the secret garden, so just pretend I’m not here.”
“Branton, how can we pretend someone is no’ here that we see standin’ right in front of us?” asked Morag.
“Probably the same way we’re supposed to pretend someone is here when there really isn’t anyone,” said Willow.
“Mazelina was here,” exclaimed Morag. “I didna make her up. She was trainin’ me just like ye all were mentored by Imanie.”
“What did she teach you?” asked Maira.
“To use my gossipin’ for guid,” Morag explained, feeling very foolish since this sounded so addlepated at the moment. “Ye believe me, Fia, right?”
Fia exchanged glances with her cousins. “Perhaps she’s in the cottage. Shall we have a look?”
“Yes. I’m sure that is where she is.” Morag led the way to the cottage, up the stairs and inside the small enclosure.
“This doesna look as if anyone has lived in here since Imanie passed away,” said Fia.
“It’s so dusty and dirty,” complained Willow.
“Mazelina? Are ye here?” Morag was losing hope that the woman would appear. After all, hadn’t she told Morag that she didn’t need her anymore and that she could no longer mentor her?
