Once He Loves (Medieval 3)

“Lord Shelborne meant well,” Ivo said now, oblivious to her agitation.

Briar laughed bitterly, as she was thrust from her new concerns into the old. “He seeks to soothe his conscience, like Sir Anthony, that is all.”

“Isn’t that something we all do, from time to time?”

“I have never cuckolded anyone.”

“Oh? Was not that why you wanted me to be Radulf? So that you could pay him back in similar fashion?”

“That was different!”

“Was it? Well, think hard before you cut Shelborne with that sharp tongue of yours. You will not sing in his hall again if you insult him in front of his family and friends, and he will probably see to it that you do not sing anywhere else in York.”

I don’t care, at least my father will be revenged!

She opened her mouth to say the words just as she had meant to accuse Lord Shelborne when he came up to her on the dais. And did not. Ivo was right. She could not ruin their lives for the pleasure of insulting Lord Shelborne, much as she might want to. She could not afford to be chased from York. She had more than herself to think of now.

“Someone should pay for what happened to us,” she said plaintively. “When my sisters and I were outcast from Castle Kenton, we went to our village, to beg help from our people there, the people whom we had cared for and loved. They would not let us into their houses. They were afraid of Filby and what he would do to them if he discovered they had given us shelter.”

“Filby?” Ivo looked down at her; she saw the gleam of his eyes. “You mean Lord Filby?”

“Aye. My betrothed.” The word slid over her tongue like barbs of glass. “When my father was declared a traitor and took his life, Filby refused to have me to wife. He took our land instead.”

“Not a man of honor, then,” Ivo said lightly, but his voice quivered with anger.

“No, de Vessey, he was not like you.”

She felt his eyes on her again, curious, searching, but he said only, “Does Filby still hold Castle Kenton?”

“Nay, that is the joke, if your humor is of a grim bent. Filby was killed in an uprising soon after we had gone—his peasants and serfs rose up and murdered him. So perhaps they missed us a little, after all.”

Ivo smiled. “Perhaps they did. How did you survive in such a situation?”

How did they survive? Cunning, determination, luck…there were many reasons. They had been stronger than they knew, even Mary.

“Each day brought new tests for us. To find food, to find warmth, to find somewhere to sleep. And somehow, most days, we managed. When we were separated from Jocelyn and Odo, it grew harder.”

“You were separated?”

“Soldiers came into the village where we were singing, and Jocelyn took Odo to safety one way while Mary and I ran another. We were afraid if we were seen, the men would take us and lock us up. We were the daughters of a traitor, remember, and we did not expect kind treatment.”

“Go on.”

“Mary and I dressed up in men’s clothing. We strode about like men—we would practice the walk until we fell int

o fits of laughter. We were a little crazy, I think, in those days. When we reached York, we were safer. We began to sing in the market, and that was where Jocelyn found us. She and Odo had been given work with Lord Shelborne, mainly because Jocelyn cooks so well. Odo would never have been allowed to stay if not for Jocelyn.”

“Odo was your father’s strong arm?”

“Aye. Odo stood by my father, always. He fell ill at the time Anna was murdered, struck down with an apoplexy the very morning her body was found. He could not advise or protect us. My sister was with him day and night, and eventually he regained the use if his body, if not his mind. But by then it was too late for my father, and for us. And he is no longer Odo, not really, but Jocelyn clings to him because she cannot bear to let him go.”

“’Tis hard to let go of those we love.”

He said it as if he understood, but before she could ask questions, he went on.

“’Tis truly a long journey you and your sisters have undertaken, Briar. I honor you for your courage. Do not squander all you have gained with one hasty, vengeful act.”

“Even if he deserves it?”