again.
‘There’s no haste for you to dash back to the bier. Father Crispin can manage alone for a while and there will be a constant watch made, I promise you. You’ll need to take some rest. All this has been a great shock to you.’
She sank down again reluctantly. ‘I have faced such blows before, uncle. There will be a great deal of arrangements…’
‘I’ve seen to most of them. The men have been fed and bedded down for the night. I’ll dispatch a small company to Coventry tomorrow with the prisoner. That will take some of the men off our hands for a while. The rest will be occupied in tidying up at the Devane manor.’
‘I have been meaning to talk to you about that. I wish the Devane father and son to be decently laid to rest within the churchyard and masses said for the repose of their souls. It is our responsibility,’ she said firmly, ‘since Robert Devane will not be able to see to it himself.’
Sir Gilbert grunted again and waved a hand testily. ‘Very well, I’ll speak to Father Crispin about the matter and send over some woman to lay out the bodies and men to arrange for their safe bestowal. The bodies of the men-at-arms have been already gathered and…’ He broke off and avoided her gaze. ‘You will not have to worry yourself about any of them.’
She nodded. Her throat was very tight from unshed tears and she was finding it difficult to frame words, but as he rose to leave her she said, ‘Is it necessary to send Robert Devane to Coventry? Surely there can be no more trouble from that quarter now that his father is dead. The King will decide the disposal of the manor, since Yorkist lands have been proscribed. Out of Christian charity, Uncle, can we not let the man go?’
‘And allow him to return and threaten our peace? Nay, niece, you do not understand the way of these things. The Devanes have been thorns in our flesh for two or three decades. Now we have the means of scotching their hopes once and for all, we would be fools to lose the opportunity. Besides, have you thought that your future must be secured? I cannot be with you constantly. My place will be near his grace the King. Hoyland is yours now and its safety must be assured.’
She had not considered that. She made to protest but he was already striding out of the room and she heard the ring of his spurs on the stone steps outside.
He was right. She was tired, her reserves drained totally. She had done her best for the prisoner, pleaded his cause, but she knew her will was not strong enough to withstand her uncle’s. Doubtless the King would appoint him her legal guardian and she must be guided by him, as she had been by Peter. She sighed. He had mentioned her future. It might be very grim indeed.
Peter would never bring a bride here, as she had feared, but what prospects were there for Clare? While the war continued, the King and Queen would be far too occupied to concern themselves with her problems. She must depend on her uncle’s goodwill and—just now, it would be unwise to antagonise him further as to the fate of Robert Devane, pity the man though she did.
Robert Devane half lay, half sat against the back wall of the barn. He moved his aching leg restlessly and cursed beneath his breath. The woman had certainly made a fair job of her stitchery but the wound still pained him like the fires of hell. The wine had strengthened him. He no longer felt likely to faint, a condition which had unnerved him.
Sir Gilbert’s men had brought him stale rye bread and water as he had expected and he had laughed silently in the darkness, thinking of the bottle of good wine hidden beneath the straw on the barn floor. The girl had been shrewish—what would you expect of that cursed Hoyland blood?—but she’d been charitable enough to see his need.
He grunted as he eased himself into a more comfortable posture and reviewed his situation. This was a pretty coil indeed. He’d been taken unprepared with hardly time to seize a weapon and the manor had fallen with scarcely a fight. If the girl was correct, his chances of extricating himself from this threatened fate were slim indeed. And yet—
He stiffened as he heard the stealthy rustling outside. The silence had been profound out there for a good hour or so. He knew the barn door was securely latched and two men left on guard. The rest of Sir Gilbert’s men, apparently, were already bedded down in the surrounding outhouses. He had heard them carousing and boasting of their conquests for several hours before that. He shuffled up into a sitting position and waited, all his senses upon the alert.
A hoarse whisper came from the slim line of light as the door was cautiously pushed partially open.
‘Messire Rob, are you in there?’
Rob smothered a half-laugh and shuffled himself upright, standing awkwardly on his good leg.
‘Come in, come in, Piers. I wondered just how long it would take you to find me.’
His visitor advanced softly with all the grace of a cat into the darkness of the barn. Behind him, Rob could glimpse a fire in the courtyard where the men had ca-roused earlier flickering only faintly, already dying down.
The man said in that curious harsh voice, accented as only one to whom English was not his native tongue would use, ‘We’ve disposed of the two guards, Messire Rob. Sacré nom, but we cannot take on the accursed company. Silas waits near the gatehouse. I sent him back and told him to stay well hidden.’ He bent and looked at the leg Rob held awkwardly. ‘Is it that you are wounded? Can you walk…?’
‘I’ll walk,’ Rob promised grimly. ‘Get me out of here as soon as you can.’
The other put a supporting arm round his shoulder. He panted as the two moved cautiously out of the barn, ‘Messire, we arrived at the manor too late to…’
‘I know that, old friend. I cannot linger now to do what is right for my father and brother. If we stay, we shall all of us be taken and pay the price of serving the wrong master.’ He laughed grimly and softly. ‘Give me a dagger, Piers. If need be, I’ll defend myself, at least.’
The other muttered beneath his breath, ‘The two here will give no trouble, messire, and the rest sound too besotted with wine to rouse. We must climb the wall, dare not go by the gatehouse, but…’
‘I’ll manage.’ Robert limped forward in grim determination after bestowing the dagger Piers gave him safely under his belt. He turned to give one final glimpse at the dark bulk of the manor house. ‘I will be back, mistress,’ he murmured softly. ‘The Devanes do not give up so easily that which they have held for centuries—and, by the Virgin, there must be a reckoning.’
Chapter Two
Clare returned from the church with Bridget the day following her brother’s funeral to find her uncle waiting for her in the hall. He turned from the hearth as she entered and she saw that he was frowning slightly, as if in deep thought.
‘Is something wrong?’ she asked as she came quickly to join him, holding out her chilled hands to the blaze. ‘You look worried.’
‘I’ve had a courier arrive from London and feel I should leave early tomorrow. There are matters decided in Council which might need my attention.’
She seated herself in the chair and leaned forward, staring into the cheerful flames which sent the shadows in the hall dancing, for the day was again a grey one and there was little light in the place. She felt chilled to the bone, for she had spent over an hour kneeling on the cold stone before the altar praying for her brother’s soul and those others who had died in the attack on
