“You have made your day’s rent,” he said.
The man cackled with delight. “Aye,” he returned, “that I have.” His eyes sparkled as he presented Hugh with his purchase.
As Hugh was crossing the Bail on his way back to the castle, a man came riding in through the main gate. John Rye’s hood was down, and his black hair and dark face were clearly distinguishable in the late afternoon sun.
Hugh immediately changed his direction in order to intercept the newcomer. Rye pulled up abruptly when he saw who was approaching him.
“Good afternoon, Rye,” Hugh said. “I’m surprised to see you in Lincoln. Don’t you ever spend any time at home?”
“I’m here for the fair,” Rye said. “I need to replace some of the livestock I lost at home.”
“Has your household returned?” Hugh asked. “Who is guarding your wife and children in your absence?”
“My wife and children are none of your business,” Rye growled, and abruptly jerked his horse’s head sideways to get around Hugh. The animal’s mouth opened in protest against the cruel jab and it jumped sideways.
There is someone who will bear watching, Hugh thought as he observed John Rye ride through the gate and pass into the Inner bail.
The first person Rye saw when he entered the Inner bail was William Rotier, standing by the stockade watching as a groom trotted a black gelding back and forth for him.
Rye dismounted and went over to the stockade. He stood in silence for a minute, watching the trotting horse along with Rotier.
“That’s enough, Will,” Rotier called to the groom.
“Off on the near front, eh?” Rye grunted.
“Aye.” The groom came up to them leading Rotier’s horse. “Have the blacksmith pull the shoe and then soak the foot in a bucket of cold water,” Rotier instructed.
“Aye, sir,” the groom answered, and began to lead the lame horse back toward the stables.
Rotier watched his horse being led off and said to Rye, “He just got shoes and I think the smith might have caught him with a nail.”
“That’s not so bad, then,” Rye said.
“I suppose not, but it annoys me. The fellow should take more time and he wouldn’t make mistakes like that.”
Rye grunted sympathetically.
Rotier finally removed his eyes from his horse and turned to the man beside him. “What are you doing in Lincoln, Rye?” he asked amiably. “Come for the fair?”
“Aye. I thought I’d bed down in the guardroom for the next few days.”
This was Rye’s usual habit when he came into Lincoln. It was a good way to save the price of an inn, and Gervase always extended the courtesy of the castle guardroom to all the men who did castle duty for their knight’s fee.
“I’m afraid that the de Beauté knights have taken over the guardroom,” Rotier returned regretfully.
“They’re still here?” Rye said in surprise.
“Aye. Lady Elizabeth has refused to go home until someone is convicted of the murder of her father.”
Rye scowled. “She didn’t have that many knights with her. They can’t be taking up all the space in the guardroom.”
“The sheriff has been doing all he can to keep the de Beauté party separated from the rest of us,” Rotier explained. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll find you a place somewhere in our own quarters.”
“Thanks,” returned Rye.
“Your wife is better, I take it?”
“Aye. She is better.”
“Good. Well, take your horse to the stable and I’ll see what I can do about finding you a bedplace.”
Rye nodded and led his horse away.
As soon as he had left his saddlebags in the wooden hut where Rotier had found him a place with a group of other knights, the first thing Rye did was to go in search of the man he had come to Lincoln to see. When it became clear that the man wasn’t anywhere in the castle environs, he shrugged and went off to the local tavern for drinks with a group of off-duty guards.
A short while after the midday meal with his father and Hugh, Richard returned to the castle in order to take Elizabeth de Beauté for a ride into the countryside. This outing had become a regular part of his day whenever the weather was fine. Lady Sybil permitted it because he and Elizabeth were never gone too long and because, like most other people, Lady Sybil had fallen under Richard’s spell.
The two young people rode north, as usual, into Lincoln Fields. Ploughing and harrowing would not begin for another few weeks, and the fields lay desolate under the chill February sun. In the distance, the sheep and cows that belonged to the townspeople wandered about the bare communal pasture, searching for grass.
Halfway across the fields, Richard and Elizabeth veered east off the main road and followed a track that led into the woods. After half a mile they came upon a small glade, and there they stopped their horses and dismounted.
Richard tied their reins to a fallen branch, turned to Elizabeth, and held out his arms. She glided into them.
The sun shone into the small glade, reflecting off the mingled fire of the girl’s hair and the more muted gold of the man’s. Richard looked down into the beautiful face uplifted to him. He traced his finger over the girl’s cheek and jawbones, then down the front of her throat until he reached the tie on her mantle.
Elizabeth gazed up at him, her green eyes hazy and sensuous. “What are we going to do, my love?” she murmured. “What if the king refuses to let us marry? What will we do then?”
Richard touched the tip of her nose with his finger. “Stephen prides himself on his chivalry. He will dance to your command the way the rest of us do, my pet.”
Elizabeth did not look convinced. “I might have been able to get my father to change his mind, but the king…” She frowned. “Besides, you don’t dance to my command. Why should you expect the king to?”
Richard’s blue eyes glinted. “Of course I dance to your command,” he said.
Elizabeth shook her head. “Nay. Half of the time I think you are laughing at me. That is why I noticed you when first I met you last year. You looked at me as if I amused you.” She sounded a little indignant.
“You do amuse me,” Richard murmured. He smiled and his voice deepened. “And you fascinate me, and arouse me, and…”
He bent his head and kissed her again. It was an expert and erotic kiss, and Elizabeth’s lips opened and she pressed her body against his.
“I have been thinking, Richard,” she whispered when at last he lifted his mouth from hers. “We don’t have to wait for the king to approve our marriage. We can run away.”
Richard looked at her as if she were mad. “That is impossible. If you do that, the king will be within his rights to strip you of all your property. You do not want that to happen, do you?”
“I thought you said Stephen was chivalrous,” Elizabeth retorted. “It would hardly be chivalrous of him to take from me what is rightfully mine.”
Richard frowned.
She reached up and ran her finger teasingly across his lips. “Richard, do you want me or not?” she asked huskily.
His eyes were very blue. “Of course I want you.”
“Then, once this trial is over, let us elope.”
He shook his head decisively. “An elopement would besmirch your honor, my pet.”
“I don’t care about my honor,” Elizabeth said with all the arrogance of the spoiled child that she was.
“Well, I do,” he returned firmly.
Her beautiful mouth looked sulky. “I thought you said that you danced to my command.”
A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “So I did. But I love you too much to allow you to do anything that might bring harm to you. We will wait for the king’s permission.” He bent his head and took her mouth in a brief, thorough, possessive kiss. Then he looked commandingly into her eyes. “I know Stephen. Make us sound like lovers out of one of those new French romances, and he will give in to you.” He smiled. “He is a man with hot blood in his veins. How could he not?”