‘But, Father,’ honesty compelled Ned to butt in at this point, ‘Sir Jean did trust me, but he would not countenance an alliance.’
Gwenn was lost in a tangle of emotions too entwined for Solomon to unravel, but she did know she felt strong affection for Ned. Perhaps she did love him. At any rate, she did not want to lose him as she had lost everyone else in her life. After all that had happened that morning, she could barely think, but if she married Ned, she would always have a friend. And she must get out of this cell...
She thrust Ned aside. ‘I agree with you, Prior Hubert. I’ll marry Ned, if he’ll have me.’
‘But, mistress,’ Ned objected, ‘remember how Sir Jean–’
‘Not another word, Ned. I’m happy to marry you.’
‘B...but–’
‘I’m going to my devotions, my children.’ The prior could see that Ned’s objections might take some time to overrule. ‘And while I am gone, consider my proposal.’
‘Proposal!’ Ned blurted. ‘It’s rank bribery! You know Mistress Gwenn wants her sister out of here.’
Prior Hubert’s eyes were cool. ‘Bribery? No, my son. Prudence? Perhaps. Consider how Mistress Gwenn might be treated by relatives less tolerant, and...er...partial than her father.’
‘I don’t need time to consider,’ Gwenn said, with a sidelong glance at the silent Katarin. ‘I’ll marry Ned this instant. Only, please, get us out of this pit.’
Prior Hubert relented. ‘Very well. Brothers Dominig and Marzin will fetch sledgehammers. Stand clear of the wall.’
‘We will,’ Gwenn smiled. ‘Thank you, Father.’ Prior Hubert walked off.
‘Mistress Gwenn, you cannot marry me.’
‘I can.’
‘No. It...it’s disparagement, mistress.’
‘Disparagement...pooh.’ Gwenn dismissed disparagement with a click of her fingers.
‘It is disparagement,’ Ned said. ‘Your father would not be pleased. Don’t you recall how angry he was when–?’
‘I remember, Ned. But Papa is dead. Circumstances have changed. Besides, he trusted you. He charged you with seeing us to Ploumanach.’
‘I’ll see you safely there without you having to marry me.’ Ned knew such an opportunity would never present itself again, but he could not take advantage of Gwenn’s vulnerability. His skin scorched. ‘You know what I feel for you, Mistress Gwenn. But you are safe with me. I’ll not touch you.’
‘Shut up, Ned. The monks are about to break this cell open. I’ve said that I’m marrying you, and there’s an end to it.’
Ned swallowed. ‘You’ll hate me...’
She laid a hand on his. ‘Hate you? Never. I need you to marry me.’
‘You need me to marry you?’ Ned stammered, struck by this original idea.
‘Think, Ned. Prior Hubert is right. If you don’t marry me, what kind of reception will I have when we reach Ploumanach? When I arrive, a bastard and unwed, tongues will wag.’
‘I’ll spear the first man who besmirches your honour!’
‘In this world, bastard daughters have no honour,’ Gwenn pointed out gently. ‘Hear me out. I don’t know if my relatives are rich or not. It might be difficult for them when I arrive with Katarin and Philippe both needing support. We’ll be the poor relations, for we’ll have no money. Do you think my kin will greet us with open arms?’
‘They’ll take you in,’ Ned said, sounding less than sure.
‘They’ll take the children in. But me?’ Gwenn shook her head. ‘I’ll be an embarrassment. They’ll want rid of me. Either they’ll compel me to marry some pock-marked merchant I’d have to be grateful to the end of my days,’ she gave a strained laugh, ‘or else they’ll force me into a nunnery, where all unwanted women go. Do you want that for me, Ned?’
Ned stared at her, his heart too full for words.
‘So if you don’t mind, Ned, I’d rather marry you.’
‘You don’t love me.’
She hesitated, and paid him the compliment of admitting to the truth. ‘I like you, very much. I feel more for you than I have for any man. But love... I don’t know what love is. I admit that I’m marrying you to get us out of this hole. I’m marrying you because apart from the children you’re all I’ve got, and I can’t bear the thought of losing you too. Perhaps I’m using you as a prop, I can’t say. But I do like you, Ned. I’m very fond of you, and I trust I will learn to love you.’
‘I’ll care for you, mistress.’
A warm smile lit her eyes. ‘I know. And don’t you think you should start by calling me by my first name?’
‘Gwenn,’ Ned breathed. Raising her hand to his lips, he kissed it reverently and pressed his burning cheek to her cool palm.
Chapter Twenty
Alan recognised where he was. The crossroads was a bow-shot ahead, round a curve in the road, which meant that Kermaria was less than two miles away. The long run had improved Firebrand’s temper. Once the courser had worked off his excess energy, he was a delight to ride. It was a beautiful morning with bright sunshine and not too much wind. Alan could smell the sea. Contentedly he trotted along. In his pouch sat a letter sealed with the Duke’s seal authorising him to carry out his survey, but today Alan felt free of his responsibilities. It seemed a long while since he had taken any time for himself, and he was enjoying it. It was good to be away from the court for once, and he was looking forwards to seeing his cousin. He could not be certain that Ned would have stayed at Kemaria, but he thought it likely.
Pleased with himself and the world in general, Alan scanned the hedgerows. They were bursting with life. The sloes were coming into flower, a gnarled old crab-apple had unfurled its leaves, birds were nesting in every branch and bough. Idly, he fell to speculating on what sort of a girl the concubine’s daughter would have grown into.
Alan’s ears caught the sound of frantic hoofs ripping along the Kermaria road. He frowned and drew rein. There were deep ruts in the highway left over from last winter’s mires, and that rider was doing his mount no service. At that speed the animal was likely to trip and break a leg.
Kicking Firebrand’s chestnut flanks, Alan urged him forward in order to have a clear view round the bend. A pretty palfrey thundered towards him. She was riderless.
‘Steady, Firebrand,’ Alan murmured, and holding the Duke’s courser firmly, he waited for the lathered mare to reach him. He caught her trailing bridle easily, and dismounted.
The palfrey rolled her eyes. She was frightened and a white froth of foam dripped from her mouth. ‘What’s happened, girl?’ Alan spoke softly. The horse, a lady’s mount if ever he saw one, carried no saddle and was haltered for her stall, which brought him to the conclusion that she was not being ridden when she was alarmed. He ran his hand over the mare’s quivering withers and felt something sticky. He glanced at his fingers, eyes widening. Blood? Wondering who in his right mind would beat such a gorgeous animal, he bent closer. The mare’s coat was undamaged. The blood was not hers then, but someone else’s. Alan thought aloud. ‘Where have you run from? Kermaria?’
He set his sights on the road which led to St Clair’s manor, and his brows formed a black line above his eyes. What was going on? Taking the palfrey’s reins firmly in one hand, Alan remounted Firebrand. Suspicions aroused, he decided to proceed cautiously. He did not like the look of this.
***
Brother Marzin had his habit rolled up to his elbows. A dumpy young man with a pot of a stomach, he was unused to wielding anything more weighty than a paintbrush, and he was sweating from his exertions. Setting hammer and chisel aside, he wiped his hands on his habit and extended them to help Gwenn through the breach he and Dominig had made in the cell wall. He puffed. To think Dominig had incarcerated them unaided...
‘My thanks.’ Gwenn clambered over the rubble, cradling a bonny baby in the crook of one arm. Her hair was all but loose, her dress was torn, and brambles were hooked onto the hem of her skirts. ‘Please help my sister.’