Page 51 of May Queen: May Day

“Aye, you should have,” he growled. “You will pay for your mistake. Guards!” he shouted. Two guards stepped into the room.

“Wait. What are you doing?” Flora quickly got to her feet. She feared for her handmaid.

“Take the old woman and lock her in the dungeon for a day or two,” ordered Ricard. “Mayhap then, she’ll think twice about lying to her lord.”

“Aye, my lord,” said one of the guards, gripping her by the arm. When he did, her sleeve rode up, and Ricard stared at her.

“Wait!” Ricard walked over and took the old woman’s arm, pushing up her sleeve.

“What are you doing?” Flora ran over to Albreda. Her eyes dropped down to the old woman’s inner forearm where the symbol of a crescent moon, just like Flora’s, could be seen.

“What is this mark?” Ricard demanded to know.

“I was given it as a child,” said the old woman.

“What does it mean?”

“It means nothing,” Flora broke in.

“I have seen it before, and now I remember where. The healer woman, Rosemunda, who has disappeared, has one on her arm as well. Is that the mark of a pagan?”

“Lord Ricard, I demand you stop accusing my handmaid of things that could not possibly be true.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Albreda has been my mother’s handmaid for as long as I can remember. She is a simple servant and naught else. Now please, let her go.”

“Mmph,” muttered Ricard, releasing the old woman’s arm. “She lied to me and she is going to the dungeon.”

“Nay!” Flora cried. “You can’t imprison an old woman. It’ll kill her.”

“Well, she should have thought of the consequences before she decided to deceive me. Now go,” Ricard commanded, sending his guards away with the old woman.

“Albreda,” Flora cried, then looked over at Ricard, reaching up and slapping him across his cheek. The anger in his eyes almost scared her.

He grabbed her hands tightly in his wrists and pulled her closer. “You have made a fool of me once by doing this in front of my men, and you will never do that again or you will find yourself in the dungeon with the old woman. Do you understand?”

“I – I do,” she muttered, breathing heavily as she stared up into his eyes.

His face was so close to hers that she had to move her head back to focus. Then, to her surprise, instead of yelling at her again, he pulled her up against him tightly and kissed her hard. Confusion flowed through Flora’s mind. She hated him right now but desired him at the same time. Emotions flowed like wine, and before she could stop them, she started crying.

“I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her and reaching out toward her face. She tensed and he stopped. “Flora, I never meant to hurt you.” His fingers grazed her cheek and he used his thumb to wipe away her tears.

“I believe you,” she said with a sniffle.

“Can we talk?”

“I suppose so.” She went to sit down, but he stopped her.

“Not here. I am able to think with a clearer head in my garden. Will you let me escort you there, my lady?” He held out his arm and waited.

Hesitantly, not sure what to do, she laid her hand on his arm and, together, they walked out into his private garden. Beautiful blooming flowers, shrubs and trees filled the area. She felt better instantly, being around nature.

“Take a second to breathe in the sweet essence of nature’s most precious gifts,” he told her, leaning forward to sniff an early-blooming rose growing up a trellis.

“I like this side of you,” she told him, gently caressing the silken petals of a pink rose and breathing in the scent.

“Sit, Flora.” He extended his hand, pointing to a wooden bench inside a small pavilion. She sat down, and he settled himself on the seat next to her. “We are to be married soon,” he reminded her. “Yet, I feel I know very little about you.”