‘We could buy mounts,’ Gwenn put in. ‘Do you think the good brothers would sell us that noisy old mule?’
Alan was not free to offer his services as their guide, being committed to the Duke, but he could help with horses. ‘I’ve a mare I think might suit you,’ he said.
‘A mare?’
Alan picked his words carefully. ‘I found her running loose on the road to Kermaria. She must have escaped her stall in the...confusion. Mistress, I think by rights she is yours anyway.’
‘Where is she? Show me.’ Gwenn thrust Philippe at Katarin. The instant she saw the brown palfrey tethered alongside Alan’s courser, large tears glistened at the corners of her eyes. ‘It’s Dancer!’ she cried. ‘Oh, thank you, Alan! Thank you!’ And, flinging her arms about Ned’s bemused cousin, she planted a grateful kiss on his cheek and darted to the mare’s head.
Alan rubbed the spot she had kissed, conscious that he was unshaven and bristly. Catching Ned’s eyes on him, he felt impelled to speak. ‘Your wife’s not altered much. Impulsive as ever.’
Ned bent an adoring gaze to where Gwenn was whispering in Dancer’s ear. ‘I hope you are right, Alan. I don’t want her to change, but I’m afraid that these blows must sour her sweet nature.’
‘Sweet?’ Alan raised a questioning brow. He remembered the doll-like creature the mob had chased in Vannes. That image had misled him, there had always been more to Gwenn Herevi than that. ‘Love blinds you, Ned. Gwenn Herevi was never sweet. Determined, aye. A little madam, aye, but sweet–’
‘She’s Gwenn Fletcher now,’ Ned reminded him without heat, ‘and dear to my heart.’
‘If you think your wife is sweet after you’ve been wed three months, I’ll give you a bag of fresh-minted pennies. You always were besotted with the girl.’ There was a desperate yearning in his cousin’s face, as though he ached for something he could never have, which was odd in a man who had succeeded in marrying the woman of his dreams. However, the conversation was taking too emotional a turn for Alan’s liking. ‘And now you have wed her,’ Alan grinned, ‘you have what you desire.’
‘Have I?’ Ned muttered, so low Alan thought he must have misheard him. Ned lifted soulful blue eyes. ‘Will you accompany us, Alan? You’ve learned the lie of the land as well as any guide we could hire.’
‘My apologies, cousin,’ Alan shook his head. ‘I’m sworn to the Duke, and I’ve some business of his to conclude in the area.’ He saw no need at this stage to enlighten Ned as to the exact nature of his business at Kermaria.
‘You won the post you wanted?’
‘Aye. I’m Captain of Duke Geoffrey’s personal guard.’
‘You’ve done well. I knew you would. You must have worked hard.’
‘I did work. But luck played its part,’ Alan admitted. ‘I like His Grace and he–’
‘He likes you,’ Ned finished.
Alan gave one of his twisted, self-deprecating smiles. ‘Aye. It would appear that he does. Strange, isn’t it?’
‘You know it is not,’ Ned said shortly. ‘Now, Alan, about your being our guide...’
‘I’ve only been granted a few days’ leave. Duke Geoffrey’s expecting me back in Rennes, and I’ve a survey to conduct on some tenants of his.’
Ned bit his lip. ‘Of course, we shall make our own way if we must. But you are the ideal man, Alan.’
Overhearing, Gwenn came back and, putting her hand on her husband’s arm, added her plea. ‘Do say you will help us, Alan. We can trust you.’
Alan laughed to lighten the mood, for the pair of them looked very grave and he didn’t want them sinking their hooks into him. ‘I never thought to hear you say that to me, Mistress Blanche.’
On hearing Alan’s nickname for his wife, Ned looked sharply from one to the other.
‘You’re cruel to ridicule me,’ Gwenn said. ‘But I understand why you do it. You think to avoid helping us by rousing my pride. But what use is pride to me?’
‘You have changed.’
‘Yesterday changed me forever. Yesterday stripped me naked. My father was hacked down, and my brother, and a much-loved uncle. I have no home. Indeed, I had no future till Ned chose to give me one. I have nothing, only,’ she pointed at the guesthouse, ‘those children. And if I have any say in the matter, they will reach a safe port. So don’t think that anger will lift me out of my supplicant’s role, Alan le Bret, for I have been purged of pride, of anger, of...everything. All I have left is my love for those children, and Ned, of course. And if going down on my knees and begging might help them, then I’ll do it, and not mind it. Help us. Please. We need you.’
‘I’ve orders to be with the Duke in Rennes in five days’ time,’ Alan said, uncomfortably.
Ned put out a hand. ‘You could spare us a week, Alan. Send one of the brothers with a message to Duke Geoffrey. Surely a week is no matter.’
‘If it takes five days to reach Ploumanach with the children, it will take another three for me to get back. Add to that a couple of days for setbacks, and it would be more like two weeks.’
‘Take two then,’ Gwenn urged.
‘No.’
‘Alan, please.’
‘No! I will not break faith with the Duke. You can look elsewhere for your guide.’ And wishing he didn’t feel like a snake, Alan turned on his heel and marched towards the monks’ cookhouse, from which was wafting the mouth-watering smell of Brother Peter’s new batch of bread.
***
Even in broad daylight when the door was bolted, the vault under the hall of Kermaria Manor was as dark as the anchorite’s cell. The only source of natural light was down the air vent; and as the light must squeeze past an army of weeds and a carpet of moss that had sprung up on the damp stones of the airway, the daylight was filtered almost to nothing.
The day before, when Nicholas Warr had locked the two women in the undercroft, he had provided them with a candle. It had burned out long ago, and although Johanna had unearthed a stub in a wall sconce, that had not lasted either, and for several hours Johanna and Mary had been sitting in tomb-like darkness.
‘This place is as black as night, but it must be tomorrow by now,’ Mary whispered. ‘I’m thirsty. Johanna, do you think they’ve forgotten we’re here?’
‘No.’ The wet nurse was wondering how Ned Fletcher was faring. Had he got away? Was she still with him? And what of her baby?
‘Then why don’t they come?’ Mary went on. ‘They must be simple if they think they can starve us into submission. Why, one of those casks of salt beef would keep the two of us going for a year, and I know there were at least half a dozen at the last tally.’
‘Hunger’s not the weapon they are using,’ Johanna said abstractedly. If the Viking had not returned, then he must be on Ned Fletcher’s trail. Which must mean that her beloved was free... Johanna realised Mary was waiting for her to add more. ‘They have another weapon up their sleeves, and they’re waiting for it to bite.’
‘Another weapon?’ Mary shivered. ‘What might that be, Johanna? I can’t say I like it here, the damp’s making my muscles creak like a rusty gate, but we have everything we need: beef, cheeses, smoked fish, wine, ale.’
‘No wine, and no ale,’ Johanna said. ‘Don’t you remember, they removed the casks they’d not drunk dry?’
‘Aye, so they did. But we have everything else.’
‘Everything save what we need most. We have no water. And already we are thirsty.’
Mary blinked into an infinity of blackness. Her sigh rustled like a breeze playing through dry, dead leaves. ‘Water. I see. How long do you think they’ll wait?’
‘Who knows? But if I had any pennies to wager, I’d say that when they do come in, they’ll be drinking themselves. They will want to torment us.’ Johanna usually avoided contact with members of her own sex, but she found herself groping for Holy Mary’s arm. ‘Mary, I’m truly sorry they have you in here. I thought they’d release you with the others.’