Malia Martin (28 page)

She tilted her head back, and bright blue eyes met his. “Yes, sir.”

Robert was fairly sure one didn’t usually eat the types of greens the child before him had gathered. “Did your mother send you?”

“No, sir.” She looked away again. “She is dead.”

Before Robert could continue with his questions, the child took a hasty step forward and looked at him again. “I will sell my favors, sir.”

Robert choked, then coughed and tried to breathe.

“For the rabbit.” She pointed to the hare that hung from his back. “I have been tried before, sir, I can pleasure you.” She did not smile, she did not frown, her face stayed a blank, unemotional palate of white skin and large blue eyes.

Robert felt as if he were to be sick. Swallowing back bile, he asked, “Who? Who has been with one so young?”

“I have twelve summers, sir. I am not young.”

“Who?” He could barely speak for the churning of his stomach and the shaking of his limbs.

A tiny furrow formed between her brows, her only concession to emotion. She pointed back toward where Robert had come from. “The soldiers, sir, at the fort. I ventured near one day and they saw me.”

He was to be sick. Turning quickly, Robert dropped his bow and quiver, ran for a tree, and lost the breakfast he had so hastily bolted that morning. Leaning against the tree, Robert tried to get his breathing under control. When he turned, finally, he saw Meg eyeing the rabbit. She looked up at him then, a crestfallen expression finally giving life to her face. Obviously the child had contemplated thievery, but she had hesitated too long.

With a sigh, Robert pulled the wrapped loaf of bread from under his cloak. As he walked toward Meg, she backed away from him. Robert stopped and held the bread out. “Here.”

Her gaze narrowed.

“It is bread.” He gestured with the loaf. “Take it. ’Tis yours.”

Her gaze on him, Meg moved forward, grabbed the bread and retreated. Breaking the bread, the girl bit into half the loaf and chewed, her eyes closing as she savored the taste. She took only three bites, then bundled the rest up in a pocket of her skirt. “I shall pay you now,” she said quietly and sat on the ground.

“No!” Robert strode forward and pulled the girl up. “No, there is no need for that.”

She only stared at him.

“Have you no family?”

“No, sir.”

Turning, Robert took up his bow and quiver. “Come with me.”

“To the fort?”

He could hear the fear that laced her words, and he wanted to kill every man of William’s who sat in the fort on the cliff of Pevensey. “No.” Robert sighed and looked into Meg’s large eyes. “No, I shall take you to the lady at Seabreeze Castle. She is English. She will find work for you and clothe you.”

She did not believe him. With hands clasped in front of her, Meg shook her head. “I will give you back the bread, sir, but please don’t take me away.”

“Believe me, Meg.” Robert bent down on one knee so that he was on her level. “I shall not harm you. I will take you to a place where you will be warm and have food to fill your belly.”

He could tell this tempted her. The small girl bit at her bottom lip and the furrow between her brows returned.

“Come, I’ll carry you.”

Her brows met abruptly over her nose, and she backed away quickly.

With a sigh Robert gestured to her poor bare feet. “Your feet must be nigh unto frozen, child. I will not hurt you.”

She blinked at him, then slowly looked down at her naked toes. Robert stood and carefully moved toward her, asking for her trust with his eyes as he bent slowly to pick her up. Meg stiffened at his touch and stayed like a collection of fragile sticks within his arms as they made their way to the edge of the forest. When they reached the open, and saw the fortress on the cliff, little Meg started breathing faster, her gaze shifting nervously from the bread in her hands to the wooden Norman fort.

“We go to Seabreeze, child. ’Tis an English lady that lives there.”

Meg obviously didn’t believe him. She bowed her head and ate some more of the bread, her body shaking in his arms. Robert shrugged his cloak more fully around them to shield Meg from anyone watching and, in his mind, he cursed the men in the fort.

When they finally reached Seabreeze, Robert took his small companion to the kitchens where he knew he would find Berthilde. The old woman stood over a wooden block kneading dough with the strength of a lion.

Robert put Meg down and called, “Berthilde, I have brought you a helper.”

The woman looked up.

Robert put his hand lightly on Meg’s shoulder and felt her small frame stiffen. “I found her in the forest. She needs a hot bath, warm clothes, and food. You have said you need another helper in the kitchen. I think Meg here would be just the person.”

Berthilde bustled forward clucking under her breath like a mother hen. “Darling girl, you are like ice, you are.” She took the girl’s hands between hers. “Goodness and you must have been out in them trees for many a cold day. It’s a wonder you are still alive!” She looked up at Robert and spied the rabbit. “Take the hare to Gwen.” Then she turned and yelled, “Nan! Nan!”

A plump young girl came running in from somewhere outside. “Yes, Berthilde?”

“Heat water for a bath, and tell Wat to bring the tub to the curtained-off area of the hall.” Berthilde took Meg’s little hand in hers. “Not to worry, dear, we’ll have you warm soon. Come with Berthilde, when you are warm we shall put you to bed with a hot broth and some bread.”

Her words trailed off in the crisp air as she hurried the small girl across the bailey and into the hall. Robert watched them, the anger he had kept at bay so as not to scare Meg, rushing through his veins and making him clench his fists at his side. “Nan,” he turned toward the girl boiling water over the fire.

The poor thing jumped, her face going white.

“When you are done, gather five or six women and meet me in Cuthebert’s chambers.”

Nan blinked, her eyes going round in horror.

Robert sighed in exasperation. “I am not going to harm you, nor am I going to rut with all six of you. I have a project that only women can do.” He turned. “Only English women.” He left, knowing that Nan was probably more scared now than before. But he knew she would do his bidding, so he made his way quickly to the keep, calling three of his men as he went. They followed him through the hall to Cuthebert’s chambers.

Cuthebert sat hunched over his ledgers, scratching in numbers with the tip of a quill. He looked up in surprise as Robert and his men intruded on his sanctum. The surprise in his eyes immediately changed to fear. The little man jumped from his chair and backed away. “What goes here?”

Robert cocked a brow at the man. “What goes
here,
man?” He had proven in the last week that he was not going to hurt anyone. Why, then, did the steward seem ready to piss in his pants? Robert looked behind him at his men. A rather formidable group, but still . . .

“I . . . I am but doing my work.” Cuthebert sputtered and nervously fingered the quill in his hand, not realizing that with his anxious movements he managed to get ink all over his tunic.

“Well, then, you should not be so nervous.” Robert eyed the man steadily. “I need to
make use of this room.”

The fear did not fully leave Cuthebert’s eyes. “Yes, milord.” He backed up even further so that Robert and his men could enter, but Robert could see that the man was not going to leave the room entirely without a fight.

Robert shrugged and turned to his men. “In the forest I found a girl, a hungry and cold child. She had been abused by the men at the fort. I want you to go out and see if there are more people hiding in our forests.”

Robert heard a strangled sound and looked over at the steward. Cuthebert’s thin lips clamped together.

“I am not going to hurt them. I wish to help them.” He shook his head and turned back to his men. “I will send English women with you. The people will trust them and listen to them. I want to have anyone you find brought back here. I do not want people dying whom we can help.”

The men nodded their understanding.

“You are going in order to protect the women. You will frighten the people, so don’t get too close to them.”

At that moment there was a timid knock at the door. Robert gestured toward the exit. “You may leave, but stay close and be ready to escort the women. I wish you to be on your way after dinner.”

The men filed solemnly out.

Nan peeked around the door, her gaze immediately going to the man who still stood behind Robert. She seemed a tiny bit pacified that there was an Englishman there, and she moved slowly into the room, with the other women following her closely. They all stared first at him, then Cuthebert. Their gazes asked questions of the steward and warred between anger and fear when they fell upon him.

Robert could not help himself from saying, “I am not going to eat you all now that you are in my lair.”

Each of the women blinked, the fear overtaking the anger in their eyes.

Robert rolled his eyes. “I only wish you to go into the forests. There are people there, children, hungry and cold. I want them brought here.”

The women still eyed him warily and Robert suddenly felt very weary of constantly being the object of fear and animosity.

Nan finally swallowed audibly and said, “You will not hurt them?”

“No, I wish to make sure they do not die of starvation or freeze to death out there. I wish to find them homes.”

Nan looked over at the woman next to her and they exchanged glances. They were not entirely sure Robert spoke the truth, he could see.

Frustration made him move abruptly to the door and open it. “You will leave after dinner, but be home before dark. Make sure you wear heavy, warm clothing. Go now, I have work to do.”

They left quickly, muttering to each other once they got outside the door.

Robert turned toward the desk, remembering Cuthebert when he saw the man staring at him from across the room. “I must write a letter, Cuthebert. I need a quill and parchment.”

Cuthebert stared for a moment, then nodded reluctantly, suspicion still darkening his gaze.

“Thank you, Cuthebert.” Robert sat on the rickety chair at the table, wondering for a moment if it would take his weight.

Without acknowledging Robert’s thank you, Cuthebert dropped a rolled parchment on the table and stepped back.

Robert glanced at him. “I’ll only be a moment.”

Resentment and hatred flashed through the steward’s eyes before he bowed slightly and left.

It was hard to be feared by all of the people who had once smiled at him and led him about as if he were a child. Robert laughed as he dipped the quill. When he thought about it, it was probably just as hard for them. All of a sudden the half-wit poacher was a Norman knight who had helped ravage their land. The laugh died on Robert’s tongue as the last of his thoughts flitted through his head. With a sigh, he bent to his work, penning a note to William. Hopefully, Robert would be able to persuade his liege that Seabreeze was the only defense needed at Pevensey. Robert wanted the fort and William’s men gone.

A
leene left her chamber to take dinner in the great hall. Heads turned as she entered, but she shut her mind to the reaction of those present.

As she washed her hands at the table, a servant brought a trencher for her. Seabreeze seemed to be running smoothly without her. Obviously, Berthilde and Robert had all well in hand. She glanced at the men that broke bread at the lower tables, their Norman haircuts and dress proclaiming them foreigners. And yet they were the rulers of this household.

Another servant ladled a heaping spoonful of steaming broth into her trencher. The tantalizing smell wafted up to Aleene, causing her stomach to rumble in anticipation. Tearing off a piece of bread, Aleene bent to eat. She did not care that Normans ruled her castle as well as the land. It no longer mattered. She had let down her king, her people, herself. She finally realized that she was not strong enough to fight the forces that controlled her life any longer. That she had tried for so long made her want to laugh. Laugh strong and hard forever.

She had always known that she had no control over her life. She had tried to refute it, tried to change it, but inside she had always known it was impossible. And yet she had tried and ended a humiliated failure.

Robert did not come to sit by her, and she wondered for a moment where he could be. She glanced around, noted his complete absence from the room, then took another bite of stew. Wherever he was, he was missing a very fine stew. Aleene looked up to take some cheese and bread from the platter before her and noticed five women talking at one of the lower tables. They seemed quite excited about something. The knights, too, it seemed had something of great importance to discuss. Aleene then noticed that the servants also seemed to be interested in some topic. Conversation buzzed about the room. Silence had been the norm since she had come back to Seabreeze. Aleene wondered what could have excited her people so thoroughly.

With a sigh, she bent to her food again, banishing from her mind her slight interest in the topic of conversation.