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But Marjorie just smiled, shaking her head. Severin turned to watch her leave the bedchamber. When he turned back, he said, “Why did you walk away from your dinner? Why did you take Trist with you? I called for him but you wouldn’t let him come back to me. What is this about a gown? Hastings?”
21
SHE WISHED SHE HAD HER KNIFE, BUT ALAS, ALL SHE HAD was Trist draped over her shoulder. She said, not really wanting to look at him, but unable to look away, “Her chair was mended. Did you know that someone had twisted that leg off? Do you not find that strange? Why would anyone do that, Severin? Why were you going to seat her in my chair again?”
He plowed his hand through his hair. He looked utterly baffled, then impatient. “This is nonsense. What is wrong with you? The Healer did not describe such symptoms to me that you now seem to have.”
“I am feeling just fine now. Did you discover any more about your saddle flying out of that window?”
“My saddle, aye, it was my saddle, wasn’t it?” He stared at her, stared at Trist, who was looking intently at his master from his perch on her sore shoulder. “You believe I had someone throw my saddle down on you?”
“No, that is too devious. If you wanted me dead, you would simply throttle me.”
“Aye, and I have wanted to throttle you more times than I can count.” He turned away from her and began to take off his clothes. She turned her back to him. She felt the bed give when he eased down on it. He blew out the candles. The bedchamber was plunged into darkness.
“What was all that about Marjorie’s gown?”
“It isn’t Marjorie’s gown. It is my gown and she will return it. She said you gave it to her.”
“Aye, to wear since she had nothing left. Dame Agnes saw nothing amiss with lending her the gown. Why would you care, Hastings?”
“I do not want her to take what is mine.”
“It is naught but a silly piece of clothing.”
She said nothing. She heard him breathe, heard his breath ease and slow into sleep.
“This is damnable, Trist,” she whispered, petting the marten’s head. “Just damnable. What am I to do?” She was not exercising patience as Dame Agnes had advised her to do. She’d blurted out everything. And Severin had looked at her as if she were as mad as his mother had once been.
Two days later, Hastings rode Marella into Oxborough village. She did not tether her palfrey in the alleyway. She left her directly in front of Thomas the baker’s shop. Ellen raced to see her, hugging her close, telling her she had been terrified that she was dead when she first saw her.
“I did not know what to do. My father picked you up and brought you into the shop. I ran to the castle. Lord Severin came immediately. He even let me ride pillion with him.”
“Thank you, Ellen. Did you know that it was Lord Severin’s saddle that fell on me?”
Ellen knew that. Hastings imagined that everyone in the village knew that and wondered about it, aloud. Aye, he was a man who had married an heiress and now there was a beautiful creature living at Oxborough. And his wife, the heiress whom he didn’t need anymore. Hastings could almost hear them discussing this. It made her belly cramp. She shook it off. “I want to find out what happened. How could a saddle simply fall from a window? It makes no sense.”
Ellen saw her mother look up from her baking in the corner of the shop and lowered her voice. “You believe someone did it on purpose? To kill you? With a saddle? Come, Hastings, that is silly. No one really thinks that is possible. Perhaps some believe it a willful act, but not everyone does. Nay, not more than half the people think it was done apurpose.”
A willful act. Done apurpose. But not to kill her. Then to what? Scare her? Why?
“You mean that the person found himself or herself there by the window with the saddle nearby and I happened to be beneath the window quite by chance, and thus, the saddle comes flying out to land on my head.” It did sound remarkably silly. But still. “I want to speak to the apprentices.”
“Very well, I wi
ll go with you.”
Robert the leatherer’s shop smelled of sweet oils, tanned hides, soft leather, and sweat. Master Robert had one journeyman and three apprentices, all of them working in the shop. Master Robert, short, a filthy apron wrapped around his fat belly, bustled forward, bowing even as he said, “Lady Hastings, dear child, I am so happy to see you well again. To think it was your lord’s saddle that fell on you! Imagine that. I am devastated it was from my window that saddle fell. I will do anything, lady, anything. Just tell me your wish and I am your slave.”
Well used to Master Robert from her earliest memories, Hastings merely nodded in that haughty way she knew would silence him, at least for a few moments.
“I would speak to your people, Master Robert. That is my wish.”
An hour later, Hastings was chewing on an almond bun that Thomas the baker had given her fresh from one of his ovens. “No one saw anything. It seems that there were a half dozen men-at-arms from the castle at the leatherer’s that day. I suppose that I will have to speak to Gwent.”
“Aye, he is a good man,” Thomas said. “Eat another bun, Hastings. You are nearly as skinny as the handle on my oven paddle.”
Hastings returned to the castle to see Severin riding out with Marjorie. Where was Eloise?
