The Valcourt Heiress (Medieval Song 7)

“I must have.” She rubbed her temples again, looked confused.

He lightly touched her shoulder. “Do not worry, it will all come back to you.”

She shook her head. “But I don’t remember why I would speak to her of the silver. Perhaps I didn’t, perhaps it’s all a dream.”

“A dream?” Had the witch managed to trap them both in dreams?

“I don’t know, I just don’t know.”

“She drugged you, made you believe her lies. Aye, I believe she has the skills to do that. I do not wish to hear you defend her again, do you understand me?”

She was crying, not making a sound, simply letting tears run slowly down her cheeks. He remembered she could cry at will. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to stop it, but she looked suddenly very lost. He brought her against him, rubbed his hands up and down her back, found his fingers threading through her thick hair. “We have our future ahead of us. Your mother has no place in it.” He said no more. Never would he believe the witch had given up her plans for acquiring the silver. She wouldn’t give up unless he managed to kill her.

But why had she let Merry leave? She hadn’t gotten what she’d wanted, yet she’d given Merry her blessing and sent her back to him. It made no sense, but he knew she’d had a reason, the witch would allow nothing to happen without a reason.

Garron raised her face, and kissed her once, lightly, then twice more. He grabbed two fistfuls of her hair in his hands and brought it to his nose. “Aye, different. By Saint Glenda’s clacking teeth, I do not wish to wait for you. I want you now, this very moment

, but I cannot, I cannot,” and he pressed his forehead against hers, held her tight until he felt a chill in the afternoon air.

“It is time,” he said, and descended the ramparts ladder, Merry a step above him. When he heard a shout from Aleric, he froze.

“Garron!”

Aleric? No, it isn’t possible, Aleric is guarding Wareham. Oh God, what had happened that had brought Aleric to London? He saw Sir Lyle standing behind him, his men flanking him. He leapt down the remaining six steps to the ground and ran full tilt toward him.

44

Garron, we caught him! We caught Jason of Brennan at Wareham! By all that’s holy, we found Arthur’s silver coins! I came to tell you myself.”

Garron came to a panting halt in front of his master-at-arms. He heard the words, but could not accept them. “What did you say, Aleric?”

Aleric was grinning like a madman. “We caught Jason of Brennan. He’s locked in Wareham’s granary, awaiting your pleasure.” And Aleric rubbed his big scarred hands together, his pleasure ferocious to behold.

Garron slammed his fist into Aleric’s arm he was so pleased, so very relieved. “Did the fool come again as the Black Demon with many men and somehow find his way again into Wareham? Is everyone all right? Come, spit it out. What happened?”

“Nay, Jason of Brennan did not come as the Black Demon with an army,” and Aleric laughed. “Up rides an old tinker with his equally decrepit old wife, leading three mules laden with goods. I spoke to both of them, studied their goods. I saw nothing amiss with them. I knew the mistress needed more goods, and our people were excited, and so I allowed them to enter.”

“You are telling me Jason of Brennan disguised himself as an old tinker?”

“Nay, my lord, it is even better than that—he was the old man’s wife. She looked as old as the dirt beneath the ancient oak at the edge of the Clandor Forest, ugly as sin, her hair tangled gray knots. I studied the old man’s ancient face very carefully indeed, but I will admit I did not study the old woman that closely. I mean I looked at her face, but saw nothing untoward, just ancient seams and wrinkles and black teeth. I saw what I was meant to see. Ah, I am a fool.”

“But you said you caught him. How? And how did you find Arthur’s silver?”

Men were gathering around them now, listening. Merry pressed close to Garron’s side.

“It was Miggins, Garron, she was watching the old crone whilst everyone else gathered around the tinker’s mules and looked at all his goods. Since they arrived late, not an hour before sunset, I invited them to pass the night within. I did not question it when Miggins chose to sleep near them in the great hall. Miggins followed the old woman when she went to the jakes in the middle of the night. I was sleeping in the solar when Miggins fetched me. She told me the old woman only stopped at the jakes, then she went to your bedchamber, unaware that Miggins was behind her. Miggins said the old crone was on her knees over the hidey hole where Lisle had hidden Lady Anne’s gowns after her death.”

“But I myself looked into that hole, there was nothing there. Merry, you and Lisle and Miggins removed all the clothes, the shoes, did you not?”

Merry nodded.

“There was another hole beneath the boards, a larger space than the one above. It was filled with leather pouches filled with silver coins, and the old woman was pulling them out, making a stack next to her. I crept up behind her, clasped my hands together and sent my fists against her ears. She shrieked and fell back. I ripped the wig off and there lay Jason of Brennan.”

Amazing, Garron thought, it was not a bad plan.

Aleric bowed his head. “I came to tell you myself so you could punish me immediately for my blindness. I should have stripped those old birds down to their wrinkled hides. You must look to me and at my failure. Aye, I failed in my responsibility, I did not see what was before my own eyes. If it were not for Miggins—”

Garron said over him, “If you had not let the two old people pass the night at Wareham, why then, we would not know where Arthur had hidden the silver coins. I prefer to believe it was your plan all along—to neatly trap Jason of Brennan once you had him within. You set Miggins to watch him. You caught him, Aleric, his arse in the air pulling the pouches from beneath the floor. Did you bring the silver here?”