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“Aye, she is all of those things. But to murder my father—that is difficult to accept. My father died one day before my mother arrived at Valcourt with her own private army and Jason of Brennan at her side. I hope you’re wrong. I hope she did not murder my father. That would bespeak evil beyond reason. Since I am of her blood, it scares me what could be inside me, waiting to reveal itself.”
“Don’t be a dolt. You are so far from being anything bad or frightening, and that makes you vulnerable. Now, listen, whether she did or did not kill him, I see now that I have no choice. I must take you to King Edward. He is the one to make all decisions about who will assume authority over Valcourt. He is the only one to protect you.”
She’d known, oh aye, she’d known what he would decide, for after all, he was the king’s man. She said calmly, her stirring a bit slower now that the mixture was cooling, “So I will no longer be my mother’s pawn, I will be the king’s paw
n. It is he who will sell me, not my mother.”
“By Saint Florin’s boils, don’t sound so put upon, you know it is the way things are done. Marriage is about alliances and property. Had your father not died, had your mother not interfered, the king would have decided your future and Valcourt’s. It is his responsibility, surely you understand that. The king would hardly wish to have a man not of his choosing take over Valcourt, it is too important a holding. I doubt not the king will want you to stay at court, under his watchful eye.”
“You mean he will dangle me in front of his toadies? I do not wish to visit the court again.”
That stopped him cold. “What do you mean, ‘again’?”
She touched a fingertip to the thickening liquid and tasted it. She nearly gagged it tasted so bad. She swallowed once, again. “This mixture is so vile, it is bound to cure anything.”
“Merry—”
She reached for two open jars, carefully poured in the mixture, covered both jars with heavy cloth, and tied string around them. “When I reached my fifteenth year, my father sent me to be one of Queen Eleanor’s ladies. I stayed for ten full months at court. I hated it. Not Queen Eleanor, for she was very kind to me, but the courtiers, both the men and the ladies, they would smile at you and tell filthy stories about you behind your back. It is an awful place. When I finally begged my father to bring me home, he did.”
Garron had watched the courtiers play their interminable games until he’d simply paid no more attention. A fifteen-year-old girl would not have stood a chance. “Did any of the men try to seduce you?”
She snorted. “Certainly, it was one of their favorite pastimes. Wager they could not seduce a goat, and they would try.”
“I trust the queen protected you?”
“No, I protected myself. My father had warned me, you see. He dinned into my head what the men at court would do, and he was right. He also gave me a small knife if a man tried to force himself on me.”
“Your father should not have sent you to court.”
“He knew it was time I was wed and he wished me to see if any of the men at the king’s court pleased me since all the king’s knights and barons, mayhap even an occasional earl, visit the court periodically.”
“None of them pleased you?”
She shook her head. “The cruelty, Garron, the honeyed vicious words, the careless promises that meant nothing at all, I couldn’t bear it.”
“Did you have to use your knife?”
“Once. His name was Baron Landreau. He had just buried his second wife and he was searching for another one, preferably a rich one. One night, he was very drunk and caught me, probably if he raped me then the king would give me to him. I slipped the knife into his shoulder. While he was screaming at me, I ran.”
“I know the baron. He is an excellent fighter.” He frowned. Men drank, many times even forgot their own names. He said, “Burnell believed you looked familiar. He was right. He must have seen you in the queen’s company at court.”
She nodded. “Oh yes, but you see, my head was always covered so he never saw my hair.” She began to tidy her worktable. “I never saw you, so you must have come to court after I returned to Valcourt.”
He nodded. “You are an heiress.”
It was an accusation. She couldn’t help herself, she gave him a crooked smile. “It is not an affliction, Garron, but since it displeases you so much I will carefully read my herbal, mayhap find a decoction of coltsfoot and soapwort to cure it.”
“Your jest does not amuse me.”
She watched him dash his hand through his hair. Without thought, she reached out her hand, but he took a quick step back. Her arm dropped to her side.
“Your father was Lord Timothy de Luce de Mornay, the Earl of Valcourt. I visited Valcourt once a very long time ago, when I was but a boy. My father knew Lord Timothy, but even as a young boy, I saw the stiffness in my father, and knew they were not friends, but I was too young to know the truth of things. I still do not know. Valcourt is larger than Wareham.”
“Yes, it is.”
“The wealth, Merry, Valcourt is an incredibly wealthy holding. Since the time of William, it has flourished.” Indeed, he had heard men at the king’s court speak of it and the daughter who was Lord Timothy’s only child, and that she hadn’t been ugly, a pleasant surprise, that.
“My father told me his father taught him how to manage his properties just as his father had taught him, and so it went back to the first earl.” She recited, “Ensure tenant farmers have the proper tools and seeds and help during harvests, use rents to buy more farms, control as many surrounding towns as you can, maintain them, always protect them from outlaws, buy all goods from them, keep a stout fighting force, make excellent ale—and on it goes.” She grinned suddenly. “My father said the first earl was a violent old man who wore a long beard wrapped around his neck, but he knew how to make his lands thrive and so he set down rules. They are written in a bound leather book, so very worn when I first saw it. My father set me to copying it. It is fresh now and easily read—for the man the king gives me to, if he can read or write, that is.
