Boadicea's Legacy Page 15

  “You need to take a lover.”

  And choked on it. “A lover?” Her skin flushed. “I couldn’t.”

  “Still a virgin, then? Well, that’s all well and good until we get you married. You’re very pretty, with your hair down. Tan, though—have you spent your life outdoors, girl?” Lady Steffen gathered together various pots and jars. “Here. Apply this, very liberally, and it will soften your hands.”

  After setting down the broth, Ela opened a jar and sniffed. “Orange? My sister makes perfumes …” She quickly bit her tongue. “I mean, she loves perfumes and wishes that she knew how to make them.”

  Lady Steffen arched a perfect black brow. “I see.”

  “Why are you being so kind to me?” Ela set the lotion down.

  “A lady to a maid, do you mean?”

  “Aye.”

  “I don’t think you are who you are.” She held up one hand. “But I won’t pry. God knows I’ve got secrets of my own that I hope to take to my grave.”

  “Thank you.” Ela faced the flames, grateful.

  “So, are you really looking for a husband?”

  Ela shook her head. “No.”

  “What then do you want?”

  Running a comb through the tangles of her hair, Ela bit her lip. “I can’t say.”

  “I see.”

  Ela turned toward Lady Steffen. “Please don’t be angry. I appreciate your help, more than you can know. I will tell you everything as soon as we reach the castle, I promise.” Reaching for Lady Steffen’s hand, Ela gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I would like for us to be friends. I don’t have many.”

  “You are a strange one.” She tapped her lips with a slim finger. “I will wait until then, and in the meantime, we can keep up the charade. Which means you can help me get all of the makeup off of my face and braid my hair for bed.”

  Ela stood, wrapping the towel around her like a Roman toga. “It would be my pleasure to serve you, my lady.”

  “Why do I think that such service won’t last?” Lady Steffen chuckled. “Here. Tie my hair back. If you look in the case by the bed, you’ll find the sponges I use for getting this off.”

  Ela was more than content with the bargain.

  With Lady Steffen’s help, Ela avoided Os and the other knights. She was polite to all and friendly with none as the days passed. Lady Steffen coached her on what to expect when they reached Norwich Castle. “‘Tis lavish and designed for kings. Or earls,” she laughed. “The stone is from Caen and simply lovely. Inside it is so huge you might get lost, but that can be part of the fun,” she said with a wink. “One never knows who will also be visiting the earl and countess. You’ll have to be at your best, Kathryn.”

  “I just want to survive it, my lady.” Ela could think of a lot of things that could go wrong—courtesy of Osbert’s doubt. In truth, she wanted to go home to her parents. But how would they survive de Havel if the rogue decided he would have her despite her saying no? Mayhap the earl could help her, if she was able to help him.

  However, she couldn’t imagine what she might have or know that might locate a spear that may not exist outside of a fireside story—or her nightmares.

  They reached the gates of Norwich at noon. Os tried again to speak to her, but she continued to ignore him. “We’ve arrived,” he said through the window of the carriage. “We’ll go straight to the castle.”

  Ela exhaled. It was true she wanted to meet the earl, but it would be nice if she could bathe and find something to wear that didn’t bare her ankles.

  “I have a suite,” Lady Steffen said, as if reading her mind. “If you need to freshen up?”

  Os’s eyes widened with understanding, and two spots of red dotted his sharp cheekbones. Her stomach flipped as if the carriage had turned upside down with her in it.

  “My apologies.” Os patted his flat pocket. “I’ve no coin—”

  Ela could feel her own cheeks burn as she felt his embarrassment.

  Lady Steffen reached into her embroidered silk draw bag and pulled out a few coins. “Here. Your sister has more than earned a new gown. Bring it to my rooms. I will take care of the rest.”

  Os’s eyes turned a dark slate, a color that called to her and made her heart feel like flying. “Yes, my lady. I won’t disappoint you.”

  He already had. Ela let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding as he rode away. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Oh, but you can,” Lady Steffen said craftily. “You promised me the truth once we arrived at the castle. And I want the whole truth. If you and Osbert are brother and sister, I’ll give up marriage for good.”

  Knowing she owed the generous woman at least that much, Ela nodded. “You shall have it.”

  The jolting of the carriage as it rolled down the cobbled streets frayed her already taut nerves. There were some things that Lady Steffen couldn’t fix, and her upcoming meeting with the Earl of Norfolk was one of them.

  She looked out the window, amazed at how large the city was. “This is four times the size of our village. I’ve never seen so many people.”

  “You really do come from the country?”

  “Aye.” She stared, taking in the trees in summer bloom, neat pots filled with flowers, houses that were side by side, and shop after shop that sold everything from shoes to meat pies. Her feet tapped against the floor of the carriage. “I would love to walk.” Colors brighter than the rainbow called out to her, pulsating with life. “Could we, just a bit?”

  Lady Steffen tapped on the divider between them and the driver. It was St. Germaine, and Ela gave him a smile. “Will you stop, please?”

  He answered with a clipped nod and steered the horses to the left.

  Ela immediately opened the door and jumped out to the street as soon as the wheels rolled to a halt. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, letting the sun bathe her face.

  “What are you doing, my lady, er, Kathryn? Get back in the carriage. What if someone sees you?” St. Germaine’s guttural voice cut through the pleasure of being outdoors.

  “I just want to stretch my legs.”

  “It is for your own protection.”

  Ela climbed back into the carriage like a prisoner sent to hang. Head bowed, spirit crushed. “I’m sorry,” she said through the divider.

  “No harm.” St. Germaine slapped the reins down, and the horses trotted back onto the road with the other carriages, wagons, and people.

  “What was that about? What harm could possibly befall a girl from the country?” Lady Steffen’s dark eyes narrowed speculatively as she leaned forward to study Ela’s face.

  Ela stayed still beneath the scrutiny, regretting her impulsive action. Os wouldn’t be pleased, and she hoped that St. Germaine wouldn’t feel the need to tell him what she’d done. He already thought her as impetuous and thoughtless as a child.

  “I have a bad habit of not thinking things through.”

  Lady Steffen sat back with a short laugh. “I see. Well … when we reach the castle, we can get to the bottom of this mystery before I die of curiosity.”

  “I just hope you will forgive me.” Ela sat back and folded her hands in her lap before she gave everything away. She didn’t care for secrets, and she didn’t like keeping her identity from a new friend.

  “I’m certain that I will.”

  The carriage rolled unevenly across a wooden bridge, and then they were at the gates. Tension built as Ela tried to imagine what would happen once she was inside the castle.

  She’d been raised with the manners of a noble lady, even if she didn’t always use them. Never drink from a shared cup without wiping one’s mouth, never put elbows on the table, and always thank the host.

  But here she was masquerading as a lady’s maid instead of being a lady, and she didn’t know the etiquette for that. St. Germaine pulled the carriage around to the front of the castle. Servants filed down the stone stairs, and the carriage door was opened.

  A servant dressed in all bla
ck with silver trimming reached out a hand to help Lady Steffen out of the carriage. Ela was embarrassingly aware of the four inches of stocking that showed as she exited the carriage behind her lady.

  An entourage of people—staff and friends of Lady Steffen’s—crowded around the carriage with welcoming laughter. They all went up the stairs into the castle’s great hall en masse.

  Ela was on the fringes of the group as they went up some stairs and down others, from room to hall. She didn’t get worried until she lost sight of Lady Steffen’s tall ruby wimple.

  She turned around, looking for a servant in black and silver, but there were none to be seen. Leaving the group, which didn’t seem to be a part of Lady Steffen’s friends anymore, Ela turned back toward the great hall. Surely someone would be able to help her there.

  The maze of corridors confused her, and since she didn’t know where she was going anyway, she remained good and lost.

  Lady Steffen had insinuated that it could be fun, but Ela wasn’t finding that to be true at all. Not one to panic, she nevertheless missed the woods at home behind her house where she could walk blindfolded and not get lost.

  And Henry. Her pet would be with Os, who surely had to be back with a gown by now. As if finding the stable will be any easier than trying to find a way out of this blasted castle.

  Turning right, then left, she walked until she found a giant staircase. Poised with indecision—up or down—Ela turned as a door opened to her right, and a harried maid buried under a stack of wrinkled linens backed into the hall.

  “Can I help you?” Ela hurried to the woman before she tripped or dropped everything.

  “Aye,” the woman’s cap fell forward over one eye. “Take these and get ta the laundry room afore anyone sees the sheets ain’t been done yet. The countess will have a fit, and it’ll be a demotion for ol’ Nell.”

  “Where’s the laundry room?” Ela peered around the mass of cloth, just grateful to be given directions to anywhere.

  “Down the stairs—not those stairs, by jove, ‘less you want to lose your position too? The back stairs, behind that marble statue. Thanks to ye, now hurry!”

  The woman, ol’ Nell, gave Ela a slight push as if to emphasize the need to rush. Hearing voices coming down the hall, Ela ran the last few steps to the hidden servants’ door. It sounded like Lady Steffen and a familiar male voice. Warin? Ela didn’t stop to get caught out. How embarrassing for Lady Steffen if she had to acknowledge that her lady’s maid was not only wearing ill-fitting clothes, but inept?

  Ela went down the dark stairs slowly. The stairway grew cooler as she descended, following the scent of soap. Struggling with the awkward sheets, she opened the door with one hand and stepped into a room as hot as a furnace.

  The laundry room at home was nothing compared to this. This was like a dungeon—dark stone walls surrounded a huge open area, where two separate fires were being stoked beneath caldrons large enough to fit ten grown people in.

  Ela knew then and there that hell was the laundry room in the Earl of Norfolk’s castle. She saw the mounds of linens against the wall and quickly dropped hers on top. “From Nell,” she told a perspiring fat woman folding napkins. “Please, how do I get outside?”

  The woman grinned good-naturedly. “Too hot for ye? Three flights up. Bring some of that fresh air down here when you come back, eh?”

  Ela wasn’t coming back. And she had a new respect for laundresses.

  She escaped the heat and picked her way carefully up the dark stairway, one hand on the wall since there was no railing. First set of stairs, second … each step reminded her that her shoes were too tight. She didn’t belong here.

  I want to go home.

  Third set of stairs. At last. Ela pushed on the door, determined to get outside and breathe fresh air into her lungs. The door opened onto an overgrown and abandoned courtyard the size of a small chamber. There was no obvious gate or way out of the courtyard. Feeling trapped, Ela pushed aside overgrown vines and dead weeds, looking for a way out.

  There was no exit, and no way to climb over the wall, either. She’d have to go back inside the hated castle and start her search for the great hall all over again. This was all Os’s fault. If he’d just been willing to trust that the enemy wasn’t around every corner, she wouldn’t be in this predicament. She wouldn’t be dressed in a dead woman’s clothes, and she wouldn’t be toting laundry up and down dark staircases.

  She opened the door and stepped inside, wishing for a candle to battle the darkness. Well, if Boadicea could take on the Romans, she could handle a pitch-black stairwell. Comparing her courage to her ancestor’s often pulled her through a crisis.

  Where was Os, anyway? He never should have left her side. He could have sent Albric to get her a dress, or Warin. Aye, she would give him a tongue-lashing when she saw him next for leaving her all alone.

  Ela hated feeling foolish above all else.

  Up, up, and up—she opened each door, unsure of what she might find. A startled maid, an empty hall—or, finally—the kitchen. Breathing a sigh of relief, she darted through the cooks, scullions, and kitchen maids to the wide open double doors leading outside. She gave no thought to the odd looks they gave her as she headed directly to the jars of wine.

  Pouring herself a cup, she drained it, then set it down next to the other dishes. “My thanks. Can anybody tell me where to find the stables?” She was going in search of Osbert Edyvean if it killed her, by all that was holy.

  A boy pointed across the yard. “Turn by the well. Ye’ll see it.”

  She nodded and almost ran before remembering that she was a lady in maid’s clothing. She turned and caught the blur of something black.

  Os took the wrapped gown from his pack, handling it as carefully as if it were glass instead of cloth. What did he know of ladies’ dresses? The girl in the stall who’d sold him the thing had giggled her way through the purchase as Os had mimed Ela’s measurements against his own body.

  He knew her narrow waist, her ample chest, her long legs. He’d memorized each forbidden touch they’d shared. Os should have sent Albric to buy the dress. Warin could have gone to get her room prepared at the castle. St. Germaine was strong and didn’t need a knight to protect his carriage. His belly clenched.

  Henry chittered, jumping from Bartholomew, who tolerated the polecat surprisingly well, to Os’s shoulder. The animal had an uncanny sense of when to hide, and so far he’d gone undetected by Lady Steffen. He only hoped that Ela had done as well.

  “Aye, Henry, let’s go in search of your mistress. We’ve not been separated long, but I have a bad feeling that she’s in trouble. Is she ever not in trouble?”

  Henry gave a noncommittal chirrup.

  “I commend your loyalty.” He remembered what she’d said about hunches and intuition. Now that he was noting the sensation, this was most definitely a warning feeling that had nothing to do with facing down an enemy or an opponent. Leaving Bartholomew munching hay, Os lengthened his stride.

  It wouldn’t do to run, especially since he had no idea of his destination.

  Ela had been ignoring him as if he didn’t exist for the past two days, so he’d done a lot of thinking on the feelings she inspired in him. Even though he couldn’t ask for more, her feigned indifference toward him made him angry.

  But he knew that to bully her into compliance would only drive a bigger wedge between them. There were times, like right now, when he felt as if they’d done all of this before. Fought for love and been denied. Not this time.

  Her scream vibrated from his soul, and his body shook. He stopped, muscles tensed, and listened for the sound again.

  When it came, he threw the package down and ran toward the outbuildings by the kitchens. He thanked God that he knew this castle as well as anyone, and he jumped over the low fence outside the kitchen herb garden with one leap.

  His sword drawn, he came face-to-face with one of de Havel’s men, who had Ela in his arms. “Drop her.”

 
The man sneered.

  Battle-calm settled over him as he said coolly, “Drop her. ‘Tis an order, man, else I’ll run you through.”

  Mayhap it was the promise of death in his voice, but the man started to back into the kitchen, Ela unconscious in front of him. Os calculated that it would take him three steps to decapitate the man.

  “Three steps,” Os warned.

  De Havel’s man wisely, gently laid Ela down on the threshold between the yard and the kitchen before backing inside and running away.

  Os let him go, striding across the gravel to Ela’s side.

  He felt for her life’s pulse at the base of her throat and was relieved to find it beating strong. Blood trickled down her neck, and he fought against unaccustomed panic as he searched for the injury.

  “He bopped her over the back of the head, sir, with a pan.” A scullion boy pointed to an iron pan on the ground. Then he mimed a cutting motion. “After she sliced him with cook’s blade.”

  Pride made him smile grimly at the boy, who took a step back. “He’s injured too, then?”

  “In the leg, sir.”

  “Good.” It was enough to go on, once he got her safe. He never should have left her alone. He’d promised her that she would be fine. He’d promised her father.

  Guilt that he hadn’t thought of what she’d wear to meet the earl had made him act impulsively—and thinking with one’s emotions always caused mistakes. Hadn’t he learned that at Sir Percy’s hand?

  Os picked Ela up, cradling her head to his chest, never minding the blood. It was a stain to add to the others he carried close to his heart. “Boy, bring me a clean cloth and hot water. Find me a page to lead me to Lady Ela’s room.”

  Albric and Warin met him before he went up the stairs. Albric held the wrapped package in his hand, and Os could see that his cloak was moving—as if a polecat were inside it. “Follow us. She’s been attacked.”

  “By who?” Warin’s hand settled over his sword handle.

  “One of de Havel’s men. He must have recognized her when she was in the kitchen. She cut him in the leg.”