Lucianna (24 page)

“Go home, then, to your lovely wife and your Wye Court. Perhaps one day I will come and visit you there so I may understand why you love it so much.” The king waved him off.

“You can see the hills of Wales from my lands, Henry, and you will be welcome should you ever come.” But Robert Minton knew that Henry Tudor was quite unlikely to ever come to Wye Court. He bowed again, and then turning, departed the king’s presence.

Joining his men, he told them, “We leave for home come the morning, lads. You have done well, and we have been fortunate to return with all of those we came with riding upright, not slung across a saddle.” They cheered him, knowing how lucky they all had been. They were not fighting men by nature, and they would be glad to return to their peaceful homes.

T
he Earl of Lisle had arrived home to discover that his wife had gone missing the day before. Balia was frantic with worry. Worrell, his bailiff, was racked by remorse for having allowed the lady to ride the estate without an escort.

“She was only going to the far cottages, my lord. She did not wish to trouble me, she said, when we were short in the fields because of the king’s war. She should have been safe, my lord. She should have been safe. ’Twas just a short distance, and she was a-horse.”

“Why was she going to the far cottages?” the earl asked. What mischief was this? Perhaps Lucianna had been correct when she said the plot to involve Luca was an attempt to strike out at Robert Minton.

“She said she was told that the two motherless children of a worker had the spotting sickness,” the bailiff said.

“She wanted to confirm that,” Balia put in, “lest it spread to others and we have so much sickness that the crops be neglected.”

“Who brought your lady the information, Balia?” the earl asked.

Balia turned to Mali. “You were with her when she received it,” she said. “Who was it?”

“Blacksmith’s lass,” Mali said immediately without hesitation.

“Has anyone asked her from where she got her information?” the earl inquired patiently, and when heads shook in the negative, he said, “Fetch the blacksmith’s lass to me, Worrell.”

“Praise God you came home today, my lord,” Balia said. Her eyes were red, and it was obvious she had been crying. “I have been so worried, but I knew not what to do.”

“There is a reason for my lady’s absence,” he said, reassuringly, but he was feeling far from reassured. He could not imagine who would steal the wife of an unimportant nobleman. There had been no rumor of bandits in the region.

The blacksmith’s lass was frightened. “I ain’t done nothing wrong, my lord,” she sobbed when brought before the earl.

“Cease your howling,” Robert Minton said sternly. “I simply wish to know who told you to tell my lady that there was sickness in the far cottages, girl.”

“He give me a ha’penny, my lord, he did. I can buy ribbons when the summer peddler comes,” she replied.

Jesú save me,
Robert Minton thought. The wench was stupid beyond belief. His fists clenched by his sides.

Seeing it, Mali quickly said, “Who give you the ha’penny, lucky girl? Wish I had a ha’penny for ribbons.” She grinned at the blacksmith’s daughter.

“Never seen him before, Mali,” the girl answered. “I was tending Ma’s geese when he come upon me. Was riding a fine horse too he was. ‘Wench,’ says he, ‘can you take a message to the countess? I’ll give you a ha’penny if you do.’ Well, of course I tell him I can. The lady is ever so kind, and when she rides out each day, she greets me by name. ‘Good day, Nelwyna,’ the lady says to me. Imagine! She knows me by my name.”

“She’s a good mistress,” Mali said. “Tell me more.”

“Well, he gives me the ha’penny and warns me if I don’t tell the lady there is sickness among the children in the far cottages, he’ll be back for his coin. Then he rides off. Shortly afterwards the lady comes riding through the village. ‘Good day, Nelwyna,’ she says to me. ‘Good day, my lady,’ I reply. ‘I have been told there is sickness among the children in the far cottages and thought you should know.’ She thanks me and rides off in that direction. That’s all I know, Mali.”

“Did she reach the far cottages?” the earl asked his bailiff.

“She did not, my lord. When Balia notified me that the lady had not returned home, I went myself to seek her.”

“No children are sick there, are they?” the earl asked, knowing the answer even before he spoke.

Worrell shook his head in the negative. “Nay, my lord, there are no ill children in the far cottages.”

“And you saw no sign of the countess or her horse?”

“No, my lord,” Worrell said uncomfortably.

Balia’s face began to crumble. She began to pray in her native tongue, and he heard pleas to Santa Anna, the Pietro d’Angelo family’s own patron saint.

Taking the tiring woman’s hand, he looked her directly in the eye and said, “I will find her, Balia. Whoever stole her must proceed with caution. They cannot go far.”

“What if they kill her?” Balia half sobbed. She was attempting to keep calm, but she was not succeeding.

“There is no purpose in killing her. She has been taken for one of two purposes. Either for ransom, or because someone believes that I can influence the king. I can, but pray it is a ransom. I can pay a ransom, but no one, save his mother, can really influence the king.”

He wasn’t surprised to see that Balia didn’t look particularly reassured. Now he would have to gather a party of men and seek out his wife. He considered where she might be taken and held, for all the lands about were his. Then he recalled an old stone tower in a wood.

It would be a perfect place to keep a captive.

“Gather a party of men,” he told Worrell. “I think I know where my wife may be. And someone get me a fresh horse.”

The earl rode out with a dozen men by his side. His destination was several miles distant. They were a short distance from the wood when a rider came into sight, and behind the rider’s horse a man, hands bound, was being led. Robert Minton spurred forward, and then, upon seeing who the rider was, began to grin. It was his missing wife, and she had obviously taken prisoner the person who sought to kidnap her.

“Lucianna!” he called, and she waved, smiling. Their horses met.

“What happened?” he wanted to know. “Where have you been? Balia is near hysteria with worry and fear. And who is your prisoner?”

“I am tired and hungry,” Lucianna said. “Can we go home first, and then I will explain everything that I can? I have no idea who this
idiota
is. It was not hard to gain his trust and free myself.”

“Give his lead to Worrell,” the earl said, and then spoke to his bailiff. “Bring him to the hall when you get there.”

“Aye, my lord.” And he took the rope his mistress held from her.

The earl and countess rode ahead of the others, reaching the hall first. Balia wept openly upon seeing her mistress. Lucianna soothed her and asked for something to eat, for she had not eaten, she told them, since the previous day before she went out on her ride. The tiring woman hurried to bring her wine, bread, and cheese as the younger woman sat comfortably near the fire. It might be summer, but the evenings were apt to be cool.

He let her eat, but it was obvious he was anxious to learn whatever she might know.

Finally, Lucianna swallowed a last bit of wine and began. “It seems that someone, though my captor would not say who, would like me dead. I am fortunate my enemy sent the fool because he decided he might attempt to enjoy my favors before he strangled me. He did not. It took several hours before his pains subsided, for I kicked him quite hard,” she explained matter-of-factly.

“He did not bind you?” The earl was surprised. What kind of an assassin was this fellow that he did not immobilize his captive?

“Nay, he did not. After I wounded him, he drank quite a bit of wine from a flask he carried, and then the sot fell asleep. When I was certain he was slumbering deeply, I found the rope he should have used on me and bound him. He was so drunk with his wine and the pain, he never even awoke until the following morning.

“He was not pleased to discover his situation, I can tell you. I would have left him there the day before, but the night was upon us by the time I was able to free myself. I thought it better to bring the villain along with me. I’m sure you’ll be able to learn more than I certainly could. Thank you for coming to find me, Roberto.”

“You are mine,
amore mia
,” he told her. “No one takes what is mine, Lucianna. I shall indeed find out from your prisoner who wants you dead, and more importantly, why.”

They were both curious to learn the answers they sought when Worrell came into the hall with the man. “Kneel before the earl, scum!” Worrell commanded in a hard voice, and pushed the fellow to his knees before he might protest.

“Your name?” the earl asked sternly.

The prisoner shrugged. “It matters not now,” he said. “I am Sir Ralph Sand.”

“Why do you want my wife dead?” Robert Minton inquired.

“I don’t. Damned waste of a beautiful woman, if you ask me,” Sir Ralph Sand said. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to offer a man a bit of wine, would you? It was a dusty trek across your lands.”

“After you answer my questions, you may have wine,” the earl told him. “If you don’t want to harm my wife, then who does?”

“Ah,” Sir Ralph answered, “now here is where answers become difficult, my lord. Do I speak truth, or do I maintain family loyalty? Would it satisfy you if I said it is a lady who was disappointed that you wed elsewhere, and thinks by ridding you of this inconvenient wife she may take her place? Or will you insist on having a name of me?”

“A name, sirrah!” the earl told him. “I was not pledged to any other when I chose to wed my wife. I courted no other. Who is this vile female who would resort to murdering an innocent woman?”

Sir Ralph was silent as he debated how far the earl would go to gain an answer.

Lucianna leaned over and murmured something in her husband’s ear. Then she looked at Sir Ralph Sand and said, “It is Catherine Talcott, isn’t it, sir?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny it,” was the answer she received.

“It is easily proven, and especially if you are her kinsman,” the earl told Sir Ralph. He shook his head. “Lady Margaret never even spoke to me about such a match. Why would the wench think otherwise?”

“She overheard the king’s mother speaking with one of her women about such a possibility. From that moment on, the lady made up her mind to have you,” Sir Ralph Sand said, his words actually acknowledging the relationship with Catherine Talcott.

“Why on earth would she ask you to do such a deed?” the earl said to his prisoner. “Since you linger about the court yet were not with the king, I can only assume you are no soldier.”

“The act of kidnapping the lady and strangling her seemed a simple task. As everyone who is acquainted with me knows, I am only fit for simple tasks,” Sir Ralph explained.

“Give him some wine,” the earl said. He had learned all he needed to know from this man. “Then lock him up. In a few days I shall take him to London and present him to Lady Margaret for her judgment,” Robert Minton said.

“
We
will take him to Lady Margaret,” Lucianna told her husband. “If you think I shall miss the opportunity to punish this wench myself by making a small spectacle of my rank as your wife, you are sadly mistaken, Roberto.”

Sir Ralph burst out laughing. “Lady,” he told Lucianna, “nothing could be a greater punishment than to see another with something that this lady desires for herself.”

“Take him away,” the earl said impatiently, and Lucianna smiled archly as she stood by her husband’s side. When they were alone again he said to her, “You are amazing,
amore mia
. Were you not afraid?”

“I was at first,” Lucianna admitted. “He came upon me masked, and would have tied my hands had I not cried I would fall off my horse if he did. So he tied me to the horse instead, which is why I could not flee him. He brought me to a rather crumbling-down tower in a wood, and releasing me from the horse, he forced me inside, but he was so intent upon having me he forgot to tie my hands. He kept staring at my breasts,” she explained.

“An error he undoubtedly came to regret,” the earl noted dryly.

“Once he was incapacitated, I realized how easy it would be for me to escape. The rest you know.”

“We are fortunate that stupid chit did not send a skilled killer,” Robert Minton said. “I am angry the wench would be so presumptuous as to believe I would have her.”

“I am certain she convinced herself that I stole you away in some wicked and unfair manner,” Lucianna said. “While it allowed her to justify her own actions, she will now learn otherwise.” She shivered. “I am still chilled. Though it be June, England has not the warmth of Florence.” Then she paused, realizing he was actually home, and he had been gone but a few days. “Is the battle over, my lord?” she asked her husband. She hoped so.