The Valcourt Heiress (Medieval Song 7)

“Nay, my lord, I did not wish to tempt the king to see all those piles of silver coins. It would strain a saint’s morals.”

“Aye, it would.” Garron sighed. “Still, the king will doubtless remove more than we would wish to give him.” He rubbed his hands together. “Was he humiliated to be found in an old woman’s gown, with ancient seams painted on his face, his teeth blackened, a grizzled wig on his head?”

“Oh aye, it was a magnificent sight. His rage turned his face red as fresh blood, particularly when I called him by name, and he knew then he could not try to fool me. Do you know, the fool tried to fight me in his gown? I knocked him sideways and sent my boot into his ribs. Then he tried to bribe me, swore he would share the silver with me. I kicked him again. As I told you, he now resides in the granary, his ancient tinker husband with him. I believe I recognized Sir Halric, but I am not completely certain since he did not take off his disguise, and he refused to tell me his name. I left both of them in their ancient old clothes and their hideous faces.” A huge grin split Aleric’s face. “Oh aye, I see the truth of things now. You are right, Garron. It was my plan all along. I solved the riddle of the missing silver coins and I caught our greatest enemy, the Black Demon. Aye, I was brilliant and I deserve a knighthood. What say you?”

Garron smacked Aleric’s arm again. “Why not? Let us see what the king has to say about this.” He paused. “Mayhap Miggins should have a knighthood as well.”

The king allowed he would consider the knighthood once he’d seen the silver coins with his own eyes. He commanded them to leave at once for Wareham since he feared that villains were lurking behind every tree, and he wanted to take no more chances with the silver. He even suggested Merry and Garron could be wed at Wareham by the king’s chancellor.

And so it was that Garron and Merry, Sir Lyle, and Aleric left London an hour later with all their men and the king’s blessing, Robert Burnell accompanying them to ensure, as the king himself put it, “That there be an accurate accounting of the silver and a just amount removed as a tithe to your king.”

When Garron saw the king huddled with Burnell, he knew the just amount of Arthur’s silver was likely to be very great indeed. His last memory of the king was of him rubbing his hands together, his Plantagenet blue eyes alight with excitement.

And Garron wondered, Where did you get all those silver coins, Arthur? Surely not from Jason of Brennan. And how did Jason of Brennan know where to find the silver this time?

45

Merry slowly opened her eyes to see blurry bed hangings surrounding her. She blinked several times until her vision slowly began to clear. But the pain in her head still pounded fiercely. She pressed her palms against her temples and forced herself to sit up. She pushed back the bed hangings and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Soft material slid up her legs and she saw she was wearing a gauzy bedgown that covered her from throat to ankle, white, and beautifully stitched. She looked around, saw a low fire burning in the grate. She was in a bedchamber, she was warm, and she was alone.

The only problem was, she had no idea where she was.

She continued to massage her temples until the pain slowly receded. Her mouth felt dry. She picked up the carafe of water on a small table beside the bed and raised it to her mouth.

And she remembered—her kidnapping, her meeting with her mother, then nothing at all. She set the carafe back down. Her mother could very well have drugged the water.

She called out, “Mother?”

There was no answer. Apparently she was indeed alone, unless her mother had either left or made herself invisible, which wouldn’t surprise her.

Slowly she got to her feet and took several steps. She was steady. She searched the room, not very large, and in the shape of a near half circle. No, more like a sickle, just like the one in which she’d awakened after those two men had brought her here. Why build rooms in such odd shapes?

Here was where?

She didn’t know. She had to get away from this place, she had to get back to Garron. She rifled through a chest sitting at the foot of the bed. She found several gowns, beautiful gowns that the queen’s ladies would happily covet. One was green as the richest emerald, another scarlet, the third pure white. And there were matching leather and silk slippers and hose and undergarments. Whose were they? Her mother’s?

She quickly pulled off the beautiful bedgown and dressed herself. The gowns fit her perfectly. She didn’t understand any of this, but it didn’t matter. She had to leave this place, wherever this place was, and get back to Garron.

There was no window in the room. All the shadowy light came from the sluggishly burning fire. What time was it? What day was it? How much time had passed since she’d first been brought here?

She hurried to the door and quietly pulled down the latch. It was locked. Well, what did she expect? A prisoner, that’s what she was, her mother’s prisoner. Rage filled her and she jerked again on the latch. To her surprise the door opened this time. She looked at the latch for a moment, wondering why it hadn’t opened the first time she’d tried it. She looked into a darkened narrow corridor. At the far end of the corridor, she saw a staircase. There was a door directly opposite her, but she wasn’t about to go in there. She lightly ran down the stairs. Once at the bottom, she looked through the shadows shrouding the corridor and could make out the main door.

She heard a noise. Was her mother coming?

She heard the latch give on the front door and quickly pressed herself against the wall, deep in the shadows. She watched the thick wooden door open. It wasn’t her mother who entered, it was an old woman carrying a basket in her arms, and humming.

She looked neither right nor left, merely walked down the corridor toward the stairs, toward Merry. Evidently she was bringing the prisoner some food. Merry waited until she was nearly in front of her. She grabbed the old w

oman by the neck and dragged her back against her. She said against that old ear, “Don’t you dare drop that basket. I am very thirsty and hungry.” She lessened the pressure on the old throat.

“You’re bringing me food?”

“Aye. Ye’re hurting me, young’un.”

“Where are we?”

The old woman was silent a moment, Merry could feel her surprise. “Ye don’t know? Why, we are in the witch’s tower. I am taking care of ye until she returns.”

“When will the witch come back here?”