Secret Song (Medieval Song 4)

Philippa de Fortenberry laughed, hissed something in her husband’s ear, and punched his arm. “Ignore his braying, Daria. Like most men, he is naught but an ass, a wonderful rogue ass, but nonetheless—I am only relieved that we chanced upon you. All is well now.”

“Why are you here? You’re female, just like me, and yet you’re dressed like a boy and you’re with him. I don’t understand.”

“That’s all right. Dienwald doesn’t understand either. You see, my dear, my husband needs me desperately. I tell him what stratagems to employ, how to proceed with his rescues, and how to execute a revenge. I am pleased that he performed according to my instructions. Aye, that foul cretin Master Giles has been served his comeuppance.”

“What did you do to him? And all the others? There were two women and at least six men. And that horrible Alan.”

Dienwald said, “Only one of them died, and the others, well, Daria, I vow they are at this moment more cold than embarrassed. Can you imagine fat Master Giles seated on his princely chair, naked as a toad?”

“You took their clothes?”

Philippa and her husband were grinning like happy fools, nodding together. “Aye, and bound them tightly.”

“That’s wonderful. Oh, how I should love to walk up to Master Giles and laugh at him.”

“Perhaps we’d best not this time,” Dienwald said. “Actually, if you’re feeling all right now, we should catch up to your brave husband.”

“You know,” Philippa de Fortenberry said, her voice provocative as she swept her thick lashes over those brilliant eyes of hers, “I wonder now that I didn’t accept Roland. Ah, such a noble creature, a man of such virile parts, such—”

Dienwald de Fortenberry rose in a swift movement, turned on his wife, and, wrapping his arms around her hips, lifted her high and tromped away with her.

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Daria stared after him, disbelieving and confused. These people were unlike any she’s ever met. Well, she’d met the king’s daughter and she was lovely, her blue eyes so bright and vivid and full of mischief and light.

She heard a yowl, part laughter, part fury. Several minutes passed before Dienwald reappeared. He was wiping his hands on his thighs. But he was now all business. “We must leave soon. As I said, we have nothing to fear from Master Giles, at least for a while. But why tempt the capricious fates? I wish to deliver you safely to Roland. Where is he?”

“It’s not far, I don’t think. He went to purchase lands and a keep called Thispen-Ladock.”

“Ah, not far at all. Are you well enough to travel now?” Dienwald helped her to rise. “I do wonder what Graelam will say. I wish I could but see his face now, at this precise moment.”

“Do you know everyone, sir?”

“Call me Dienwald. Actually, if you speak to my wife, she’ll suggest other useful names to you. As for Graelam, it is his wife who knew me before her fierce husband did. So many tales lie in this head. And now you’ve added another. Also, we’re a small society here in this part of Cornwall, so it isn’t passing strange that we’re all known to each other. What is passing strange is that we are all friends.” He laughed at that.

“I am delighted that something lies in that head of yours,” said Philippa, walking up to them. “Let me help you,” she added, offering Daria her hand. She looked startled when Daria jerked away from her and rushed away, only to fall against a tree and vomit.

“Goodness, what did you say to her, wench?”

“Nothing, my lord husband. Oh dear, if she is ill—”

“We will travel slowly. There is no need to rush about now. Master Giles is taken care of.” He rubbed his hands together and smiled a very evil smile.

Daria accepted the goblet of water from Philippa and washed out her mouth.

“I am with child,” she said. “I’m not ill. The sickness comes and goes, and I hate it.”

“I must say that Roland wasted no time in his duties,” remarked Dienwald. “How long have you been wedded?”

“Not long,” said Daria, and allowed Philippa to wipe a damp cloth over her face. “Thank you. That is wonderful. I’m all right now, truly. It’s morning and the babe has but told me that he is ready to begin the day. Can we leave now to find my husband?”

She saw Philippa and her husband exchange glances; then Dienwald turned to her. “Aye, let us go now.”

“My mare, Henrietta, Master Giles took her.”

“I have all of Master Giles’s horses. It is sufficient repayment, I think, for his thievery.”

“Don’t forget all his clothes,” added Philippa, sniggering behind her hand.